A Hunter's Son
by vancekennard
Summary: Sam travels into an alternative universe where he and Dean aren't siblings, and are dating.
1. Chapter 1

The portal broke open, bleeding out into Sam Winchester's world with a powerful force that was taking cars into its black mouth and making them disappear. Lunar Street exploded in screams of terror as the legs of stunned onlookers began working again. They dashed off in different directions, all of their goals the same – to get the hell away from the portal before it sucked them in too.

Sam was the only one sprinting towards the gateway, with a red, quarter sized emerald squeezed in his hand. Fear gripped his heart, but he didn't let it spread through his body, he couldn't let it slow him down. He knew with absolute certainty what had to be done to save this town.

Just as he was leaping into the air, he saw the strangest thing he'd ever since in his life, and for Sam, that was really saying something. He saw himself flying out of the portal. He looked over his shoulder and watched the other Sam tumble to the ground, before the darkness swallowed him.

"Whoa!"

A mysterious energy sparked inside him, hooked itself to his navel and pulled him forward, further into endless nothing until a window to another place suddenly appeared as the portal spat him out. Sam crashed face first into the asphalt.

"Ugh," he groaned, rolling over.

When his back protested being lain on with a shot of pain, he abruptly sat up and looked around. It was night here, but the air was still filled with humid heat. Sam put the emerald in the pocket of his denim jacket and used a car that was abandoned in the middle of the road to help him climb to his feet. He limped closer to the head of the street until he could make out the sign. "Lunar Street," he read aloud. So far, this other reality didn't seem too different from his.

Sam went on, rounding the street corner just as a patrol car pulled up to the curb. The officer stepped out of the car and adjusted the beige, felt cowboy hat that was resting atop his head. "Howdy, there."

Sam held up a hand. "Howdy."

On the right side of his mouth the officer chomped down hard on either gum or tobacco. "You okay, sir? We were just swamped with the strangest calls."

"I'm fine, officer."

"Did you see anything?"

"No, sir."

He put his hands on his hips and looked both ways. "A' right. Have a good night."

"You too," Sam said.

He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and walked in the opposite direction of the cop, deciding to circle around to get the Impala. However, when he got to where he'd left the car there was nothing but an empty parking space. "Great." He kicked the parking block.

"Hey, Sam!"

Sam froze. That voice. He had to be hearing things.

"Sammy! Where the hell have you been?"

Sam turned to see his older brother, Dean Winchester, jogging towards him. He was wearing his standard jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket ensemble. He didn't look any different than he had the day he died.

Sam fought to keep tears out of his eyes. "Hey, Dean."

When Dean reached Sam he got on the tip of his toes, so he could wrap his arms around Sam's shoulders and bring the taller brother into a bear hug. "I was looking everywhere for you," Dean whispered in Sam's ear. "I was getting worried."

_Wow_, Sam thought. _Dean and I must be pretty close in this universe_. _And he's still alive!_

Sam realized he would have to be very careful from this point on. He got the feeling what he saw while he was going through the portal was no hallucination. It appeared the Sam from this universe had also fought Malimar, a demon who had found a way to open gateways to other universes in order to disrupt adjacent worlds. The other Sam must have also ran out of time while trying to find a way to stop Malimar, and did the only thing he knew he could to slow the demon down – escorting the spelled emerald (the emerald of worlds) through the gateway, to keep the thing closed for up to three months. And since Malimar had wasted so much energy opening the portal Sam had just closed, he figured he had at least a month to find out how to stop him before the demon caused more trouble.

The hardest part of being in this universe would be playing the role as this world's Sam, so he wouldn't screw this reality up. He hoped the other Sam had the same forethought and wouldn't damage his home. With any luck his other self might find a way to stop Malimar first and Sam could get back to his world, and training to kill Lilith.

"Your father would have murdered me if anything happened to you," Dean said, as he pulled away.

"John's alive?" Sam asked, without thinking.

Dean looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Of course my dad's alive, but I was talking about Bobby. I know we've been together a long time, and I know you've called Mary mom since yours passed, but you calling John dad? I don't think we're there yet."

Maybe this universe was a lot less like Sam's than he'd thought.

"Right," Sam said, trying to sound confident. "I don't know what's gotten into me. I just suffered a nasty fall."

Dean stuck out his bottom lip. "Poor baby."

Sam socked his arm. "Shut up."

Dean took Sam's hand in his and laced their fingers together. "You know I tease because I love you, let's get you back to the hotel so I can give you a proper look over."

Sam tore his hand away. "Seriously, Dean, that's enough."

Dean cocked his head and gave Sam a penetrating look. "What? I thought you were over acting all hetero in public."

Sam's mouth went dry. "You have got to be kidding me." He looked up at the sky with his arms stretched out. "This can't be happening. This wouldn't happen, ever. We're related for Christ's sake!"

"Since when?" Dean snapped. "You're the perfect Singer boy, and I'm the good for nothing Winchester. That's been the story of our whole romance. What the hell is wrong with you? Did you fall on your head?"

Sam looked down and inhaled deeply, trying to suppress his panic. "Yeah, like I said, it was a bad fall."

"Let's get back to the hotel then," Dean prodded. "We don't have to walk hand in hand."

Sam bit his lip. Obviously this world's Sam didn't have any problem holding hands with Dean. He had to act as if he was that guy to the best of his ability. "No, um, go ahead," he finally said.

Dean linked their hands again, and led the way to a beaten down, red pickup truck that Sam pretended to be familiar with, all the while wondering where the Impala was. They listened to Dean's favorite Texas station as they drove to the hotel. It was two miles away from Lunar street, just like in Sam's home universe.

Sam made a face when he entered their hotel room, and only saw one bed. Well, duh! In this universe he and Dean were two red-blooded, grown men in a relationship. Why the hell would there be separate beds?

Dean sat on the bed and gave Sam a fiery look, and Sam fought the urge to break eye contact.

"Come here," Dean said, as he lay back on the bed.

"Okay," Sam said in a squeaky voice.

The taller man lowered his stiff frame into Dean's open arms.

"Do you want to top tonight?"

"Dean, I, uh, I'm not sure I'm up for that." Holy crap! Did that mean what Sam thought it did? Dean actually let Sam do that to him? It was difficult for him to picture, not to mention, it was also incredibly gross. "I don't think I'm up for any… fun. 'Cause of that fall…" It wasn't entirely a lie. He was feeling pretty weak, but that had nothing to do with the fall.

_Shit_, Sam thought. _Do we know Ruby in this universe?_

Sam was going to start going through withdrawal if he didn't get some demon blood in him – fast.

Dean stroked his hair. "Right. Let's get these clothes off and get you tucked in."

Dean didn't say anything when Sam left his underwear on, but Dean got buck naked before getting under the covers. Sam turned to face the opposite direction and faked a yawn as a blush crept into his cheeks. Dean cuddled up from behind him and Sam tried not to tense up any further as Dean's sweaty erection pressed into his lower back.

"Sorry, baby," Dean laughed. "You know what having you this close does to me, doesn't matter if I know I'll have to wait for it."

Sam didn't respond. Instead he closed his eyes tight, and tried to focus on how nice it was to have the sound of Dean's breathing in the room with him again as he dropped into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

John Winchester was, if nothing else, a man who knew how to come to terms with things one cannot change. However, there was just something about the Singer kid that drove him nuts since day one. Day. Goddamn. One.

It was bad enough that he followed Dean around like a lost puppy for years. Always egging Dean on, and begging to be included, and then John would have to watch his son get blamed for the trouble that followed.

Then Dean had to go and fall in love with the boy, for Christ's sake! Bobby hadn't been too happy about them shacking up either. "I don't want my boy with a hunter's son," he'd said grimly, as if he wasn't a damn hunter himself!

Mary was the only one who got on board right away, and even stayed on when Sam left college to help Dean hunt – and Bobby had the nerve to blame it all on Dean! John had had enough at that point. He'd marched into the living room, going on a tirade about how he was going to put a stop to this foolhardy romance once and for all, if it was the last thing he'd do! His son wasn't ending up with someone who did whatever he liked, whether or not if it was what was good for him.

Mary had looked right at him with the smuggest expression she'd ever worn, and said, "Dean picked a man just like his daddy."

John's face twisted up in disgust, like he'd smelled something foul. He locked that memory away as he pounded on the way-too-fancy-for-a-damn-hotel door. Why the hell were they staying in a place this nice anyway? Was College Boy too good for the types of places John stayed in?

Dean answered the door in a towel. College boy was sitting on the hotel bed, pulling on a shirt. His cheeks turned pink when he saw John. "Didn't mean to interrupt, boys," John said, looking straight at him.

College Boy blanched and the pink disappeared. "You didn't!"

Dean laughed as he moved to the side so John could enter. "I've said it a thousand times – he only says that stuff to get you going."

"So, Sam, where's the emerald?" John asked, putting on his best no nonsense face.

"What emerald?" Dean asked, as he shut the door.

"Last night Sam called and said he came across some of the demons I asked you to help me track," John explained. "He overhead them talking about some emerald they wanted to destroy, an emerald he's read about before that could slow Malimar down. Sam said he'd try to get to the place it was buried before the demons. When I went to meet up with him, the grave was already open but he wasn't there. Anyhow, some other dark eyes showed up and I hid. They mentioned something about going west before they noticed the open grave. Then they flipped out and left."

College Boy slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah, I got the emerald and it made me think of something else they'd said, about meeting up at Lunar Street. They actually tried opening a portal last night so I… I had to throw the emerald through the portal to stop them."

John tried not to look at him like he was a red headed step child, but it was so hard! "And you didn't feel the need to call and share this with me?"

"Dad, you should have called me," Dean snapped.

"Sam and I agreed you needed to stay on the tail of the dark eyes you were following," John snapped back. "And I knew if we told you, you'd go running after Sam like he can't take care of himself. That's neither here nor there now. Now we know for sure Malimar's recruiting demons for this portal business. We need to focus on finding out more about them and we should head west."

College Boy had this look on his face like the wheels in his head were turning. "Dad's right, Dean, we have to—"

College Boy hushed, and closed his mouth tight, when he noticed the bewildered expressions on Dean and John's faces.

Dean gave his boyfriend a dark look. "Your head is still that messed up from the fall that you're calling him dad to his face now? Maybe I should take you to the hospital."

"Fall?" John raised an eyebrow. "You didn't mention throwing down with any of the demons."

"Because I didn't. I'm fine, it was just a little un-demon related fall," College Boy protested. "Look, _John_, I know what has to be done. We have to find Malimar and kill him. I'm not sure how he's doing it, but he's the key to this process. That's the only way to stop this portal thing, and if we don't, it could put multiple realities in jeopardy."

Dean shook his head. "Well, you can't ever call this job boring. That's for damn sure. You'd think a door to hell was bad enough, but nope, the universe is keeping us on our toes."

"We need to call up everyone we know and fill them in," John said. "If this is as big as Sam suspects, stopping Malimar should be every hunter's priority."

"I guess I better put on pants then," Dean said nonchalantly.

"I can take a hint," John muttered. "We'll meet up at the diner on the corner in thirty."

John left the hotel room with a really odd feeling tingling in his gut. Had College Boy actually looked after him with longing as he went?


	3. Chapter 3

Mary woke up at the crack of dawn to the smell of coffee. "Jessa, I smell that! Save some for me!" she called towards the kitchen. Her guestroom was right next to it, which was nice in the night when she was homesick and worried about John. There was nothing like a midnight snack to help ease the mind.

Mary stretched her arms out as she strolled into the adjoined bathroom and turned on the shower. That's when she felt it. The hair rose on the back of her neck and a shiver ran down her spine. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Mary quietly exited the bathroom and slipped on her sneakers. She picked up the shotgun she kept right at the side of the guest bed and cocked it. As she moved toward the kitchen she hoped she was being silly, hoped that her instincts were way off and that she was about to find her friend humming while she made a very early breakfast. A sight she'd seen almost every morning since she came here two weeks ago.

There was no Jessa in the kitchen though, but there were signs that she'd been there moments ago. The coffee pot had been removed from the brewer and was sitting next to a mug. The pantry door was wide open.

Mary gripped the shotgun tighter as she cautiously stepped into the living room. The room was bathed in shadows and it was as silent and empty as it had been in the night. But the deadbolt wasn't locked like it had been just two hours ago, when Mary had gotten up for a glass of water.

There was no reason for Jessa to unlock it. No reason for her old friend to go outside at this time of day.

Mary started to shake as she went forward, but before she reached the door it flung open. Mary didn't have time to pull the trigger before the body flew through the door, slammed into her, and knocked her to the ground. "Shit!" She lost her hold on the gun as she shoved Jessa's corpse off of her. The body had dark bruises on its pale neck.

The demon chuckled as he crouched in the doorway and seized one of Mary's legs.

"No!" she cried, as she was dragged out, onto the ice cold porch.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought to herself.

The demon must have known they had devil's traps placed in many spots in the home. If she hadn't let the demon lure her to the door, she would have been safe.

The demon grabbed her by the back of her neck and yanked her to her feet. His black eyes glittered as he gave her a crooked smile. He was tan, with dark long hair that matched his all black outfit, and he had sharp, birdlike facial features. His body was slim, but tall and broad. Mary realized that she recognized him, but she couldn't be sure from where. The demon must have possessed someone who lived in the neighborhood. Maybe that was how he'd lured Jessa out of the house.

The demon bowed his head. "Mrs. Winchester, I apologize for disturbing you at such an hour, but we have urgent business to attend to."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Dean rolled his eyes and glanced at Sam, then back at the road. "Hey, handsome. What's on your mind?"

Sam looked out the window. "Nothing special."

"Then why haven't you touched the radio? You're always making me listen to boring ass talk shows."

All those years I endured the driver picks what we listen to rule, and I could have overthrown it by sleeping with the driver, Sam thought with morbid amusement.

"Sammy, did I do something?"

"No," Sam said quickly. "Sorry Dean. I guess my mind is stuck on Malimar."

Dean took one hand off the steering wheel and patted Sam's leg. "Babe, we've made it through worse."

Sam swallowed and tried to ignore the touch. And he didn't know what to say, because in his world he and Dean had faced something far worse – Dean's soul being sent to hell – and Sam had failed him.

"Don't stress over it," Dean continued. "Let's just focus on being here together, safe on the road and not putting up with any crazy bull shit at the moment."

Sam sighed. He wished he could just focus on having another chance to spend time with Dean (even if this Dean was definitely not his Dean), but his body was starting to ache and his head wouldn't stop pounding. His mouth watered at the thought of the cure for his pain. He was half-hoping this peaceful drive would turn into an encounter with – what this world's hunters seemed to like to refer to as – dark eyes.

Dean captured one of Sam's hands in his own and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. "I know how to cheer you up."

The car suddenly veered off the road into a patch of the desert wasteland that went on for miles in all directions.

"Dean," Sam gasped.

"This will be fun, trust me."

The second Dean shut off the engine he was unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over to capture Sam's face in his hands.

Sam pulled away. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean huffed, looking wounded. "The windows are tinted."

Just then Dean's cell phone started ringing. He cursed under his breath as he settled back into his seat and answered it. "Hello." Dean's eyes went wide. "Mom? Mom, what's… emerald?"

Sam straightened his back. "What's going on?"

Dean anxiously clutched at his hair. "Mom, we don't even have the fucking emerald anymore."

"What's going on?" Sam repeated, this time raising his voice.

"Malimar has her!" Dean roared. "The son of a bitch took her from the safe house she stays in when dad's out of town and he wants to make a trade!"

"Shit," Sam muttered. He did hesitate before telling the truth, but only for a moment. "I – I have the emerald."

"What? What the hell, Sam? You said you had to throw it in a portal!"

"Look, I'll explain later, just tell the bastard we'll make the trade."

Dean glared at Sam, but he didn't object. "Okay, mom, listen – give the phone to Malimar."

Dean listened intently to whatever the demon said, and threw his phone at the dashboard when the conversation was over. "Fuck!"

"What'd he say?"

"He wants us to meet him at Manhattan Beach, near the pier at sundown, in three days. And he wants dad to be there. We'll barely make it, and dad's probably running behind. He stopped while we kept going last night." Dean shook his head. "I don't like this. He wants us to rush so by the time we get there we're worn out. We shouldn't all be walking straight into this trap. He mentioned me and dad, and the emerald of course, but not you. You could—"

"No way," Sam cut in. "Dean, I'm going with you." If Sam could somehow find a demon before the meeting and recharge, he could be their hidden weapon. It might be the only way they could all get out alive. And it could be the only way to make Malimar weak enough to kill him. Whatever they were going to do, Sam knew Mary's life was more important than the emerald in the short run, but if Malimar got his hands on it they would all be dead meat anyway, and Malimar would destroy Sam's only way home. "We need to keep getting in touch with hunters, especially the ones we think are in that area."

"But first I have to tell my dad," Dean whispered, his hands shaking.

This time it was Sam's turn to lean over and try his best at being a soother. It was awkward, given his height and that they were sitting in a truck, but he pulled as much of Dean as he could into his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Dark clouds came and went all day. One minute there was furious rain and the next it was as sunny as California was expected to be. The weather was acting strange. All the newscasters had said so; their voices were a little fuzzy as they came through the tiny speakers on the dinky television in Sam and Dean's hotel room.

Dean was pacing in front of the old, small TV with a grave expression locked onto his face.

"The emerald just sort of, reacted to the portal," Sam lied. "But I don't think it will happen again. The glitch probably only happened because it was some type of trial run. The next time Malimar opens a portal it will take someone going through it with the emerald to shut it."

"That still doesn't explain why you lied."

Sam scratched at the nape of his neck. "Yeah, well… I knew you wouldn't like it, but I know a lot about this emerald. I've researched this type of magic and I thought if push came to shove I should be the one to go through a portal. I figured I could find the right incantation to spell the emerald to bring me back. But I know you would never go for that."

"You're damn right I won't." Dean came to a halt and put his hands on his hips. "Are you out of your freakin' mind? Since when have you been this rash?"

Sam thought for a moment that his entirely un-brotherly relationship with this Dean had done a lot for the guy's vocabulary.

"I just want to do the right thing," Sam argued. "This is really serious, Dean. It's like nothing anyone who hasn't been dead for hundreds of years has faced. Everything I've been able to find on Malimar is rooted in old legends, and all our contacts have been able to tell us is he's some kind of rare chaos demon who escaped hell when the door was open. No one has any ideas on how to kill this guy. Word is if you try, it only makes him stronger, and you can't send him back to hell the normal way. So you tell me, how is acting a little rash not called for?"

Dean took the other seat at the small table beside the hotel window and dropped his face in his hands. "I can't even think straight right now. We have to meet my dad at the airport."

John had found a hunter named Travis, who'd trained many hunters living in Southern California. He'd agreed to help them, so the two had caught a flight so they could make it there fast.

Sam licked his lips. "Look, you go. I'll keep digging on the net." This was the perfect opportunity for Sam to get some demon blood in him.

Dean nodded. "Okay. My dad's not too happy with you right now anyway."

"You should cool him off before you guys come back here then," Sam suggested. "Take him and this Travis guy out for food and a drink."

"I will." Dean stood and walked over to Sam so he could kiss him on the cheek. "Be good. I mean it."

Sam couldn't help wiping at the spot Dean's lips had just touched. "Don't worry."

After Dean left, Sam dressed like Ruby had taught him to, in a tight fitting T and snug jeans. Demons were so vain; she'd said if she was ever lost to him the best way to get his hands on demon blood would be to go the seduction route. He could easily find a demon who would want to toy with him or take his body as a shiny new vessel.

Sam slicked his hair back with his hands and grabbed his hotel cardkey and slipped it in his wallet. He was nervous, but it was now or never. He sat back at the table and typed into the search engine his location and articles on missing people and strange happenings. There was a lot of activity near the Sepulveda Strip. Sam decided to pick a bar near there and to try his luck.

He called a cab and said he'd pay extra if they got to the hotel fast.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" The taxidriver asked, as Sam got into the backseat.

"I'm supposed to be meeting someone at Hurst Bar. I'm late."

The taxidriver smiled at him in the rearview mirror. "A hot date?"

"Something like that."

"I'll step on it then. Do you mind if I turn on the radio?"

"No, go ahead."

The sounds of a roaring saxophone almost soothed Sam's jumbled nerves, but his ankle wouldn't stop itching where his sheath was pressing against his skin. The sheath that was holding the knife he couldn't wait to slice a demon's skin open with.

The itch nearly drove him mad by the time the cab pulled into a dark side street. "Here you are."

The building's tinted windows and black double doors revealed nothing, and the neon sign at the top of the front of the place was off. There wasn't even the sound of music or loud, exaggerated voices.

"You sure this place is open?"

Sam shrugged. "Guess I'll find out."

"Want me to wait?"

"No, thank you." Sam handed the driver a wad of wrinkled dollar bills and stepped out of the cab.

Sam watched the cab drive off before he opened one of the double doors and peered into the low lit bar. A familiar feeling hit Sam in the gut as he took in the small groups of beautiful patrons, who were all looking his way, some of them whispering to each other like they were already conspiring against him. This was a demon spot for sure.

Sam entered slowly and headed straight for the bar. The bartender came over while drying a glass. She was a pretty, busty Asian woman. _His_ Dean would have definitely approved of her. "What's your poison?"

Sam gave her a charming smile. "Let's start with a bottle of Miller."

"Never heard of it." The expression on her face let Sam know she was dead serious. "Can I get you something else?"

_No Miller in this universe? What does dad drown his sorrows with?_ Sam wondered. Then he was struck with the realization that John probably didn't need a liquid companion in this reality, since Sam hadn't gotten Mary killed here. All things considered, the Winchesters seemed better off without him in the family. For some reason, Sam felt like screaming. Those thoughts cut him right to the bone.

The bartender waved a hand in his face. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah. Sorry. Cheap whiskey will be fine."

The bartender brought him a glass of whiskey and held out her hand. "I'm Tai."

Sam took the hand, it was a lot smaller than his but Tai's grip was strong. "Sam."

"Can I get you anything else, Sam?"

"I don't want to sound like a sleazeball, but are there any regulars here that you think would take a drink from me?"

Sam thought he saw a hint of something sinister behind the smile Tai flashed him as she pointed to a Gothic dressed, brunette woman sitting at the other end of the bar. "Gem likes cheap whiskey too."

"Then get her a glass, and let her know it's from me."

Sam watched the women converse longer than was necessary. They could have just been talkative gal pals, but Sam suspected demon Tai was helping demon Gem size Sam up as a target. When they finished talking Gem downed the whiskey and wiped her mouth as she motioned with her other hand for Sam to join her.

Sam got out of his seat a little too quickly, but he knew she'd probably chop his enthusiasm up to horniness and not demonic blood withdrawal.

"Hey, sugar," Gem said, when Sam filled the seat beside her. "Do you mind if I call you sugar? Sam's such a common name. Common names bore me." She toyed with the black lace choker that was wrapped around her neck. "You don't want to bore me, do you?"

_Play it cool, Sam. Play it cool._

Sam shook his head slightly. "Boredom is the last thing I'd want to subject a pretty girl to."

It was easy then. Sam had her wrapped around his finger in under thirty, and wasn't the least taken aback when she put her hand on his thigh and whispered if he'd like to join her in the bathroom. Sam felt a rush of relief. He was so close.

The one-at-a-time, unisex bathroom was down a small hallway, with an exit right next to it.

Gem knocked on the bathroom door before turning the handle. She looked over her shoulder at Sam. "It's all ours."

She pulled him inside and quietly shut and locked the door before she grabbed fist fulls of his shirt and backed him to the toilet. "Sit."

Sam's mouth felt dry as he obeyed the command. It was now or never. He pulled the tiny baggie of rock salt out of his back pocket as Gem slid her black silk panties down her legs.

Sam jumped up and grabbed her just as she was stepping out of the garment. He decided a choke hold was best. If she wasn't possessed he'd just leave her unharmed and passed out on the bathroom floor. He was lucky though, because he didn't even have to do the salt test, Gem started wrestling him with strength that was abnormal for a female her size and he saw her eyes go black in the bathroom mirror.

Her strength wouldn't save her from Sam; he focused on what little power he could still feel flowing through him and managed to get close enough to driving out the demon that it was seriously disoriented. Gem began convulsing on the floor. Sam swiftly turned on the faucet, hoping it would drown out some of the noise they were making, and whipped out his knife before straddling Gem's thighs. He pushed up the hem of her top and slashed the fair skin just above her belly button. The sharp separation of flesh caused an immediate flow of deep red blood.

"Sorry," he said automatically, before diving in for a nice big slurp.

When Sam had his fill of the blood he rinsed the copper taste out of his mouth before exercising the demon. Unfortunately, he hadn't exactly gotten the hang of it yet, so the pretty little host did not survive. Sam couldn't help but feel little remorse; it was a bad-mannered side effect.

Sam washed his knife clean and put it back in its sheath and looked himself over in the mirror to be sure there wasn't any blood on his shirt. That's when he heard the knock.

"Hey, Gem?" Tai called. "Are you in there?"

Sam froze. He usually thought fast on his feet in hairy situations, but his mind felt clouded and distant, still intoxicated by the charge the demon's blood had given him. He didn't know what to do, so he just reacted.

Sam tore out of the bathroom, knocking Tai into a wall on his way out of the exit door.

He took off down the dark street in the direction of the moon.

"Hey, fucker!" Tai screamed, barreling down the street in pursuit.

_Oh, hell_, Sam thought. _Why did she have to follow me?_

Sam tired to focus on the sounds behind him. He could tell the loud footfalls were only coming from one source. Now he had the choice of either trying to outrun the demon or letting it catch up so he could exercise this one too. But how much of his freshly acquired strength would last by the time he'd face Malimar? No, he couldn't risk giving anymore of it up. He didn't know if he'd have the chance to get another fix.

Sam jumped a chain link fence at the end of the street, and found himself in a small construction site. The demon didn't even bother going over the fence. Sam heard her tearing the steel apart, making her own opening, as he raced through the bone structure of a building. When he'd made it back outside a tall brick fence faced him.

"Shit," Sam panted. He turned to face the steps that were fast approaching him. "I was going to give you an out, but you've left me with no choice."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Why do I always feel guilty at airports?" Dean asked as he swiped his keycard.

"Being at an airport while you're a wanted man isn't the best idea," John mumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes. He hoped his dad wouldn't start in on Dean's sloppy hunting habits again. "It's not like I've actually done anything wrong though."

His dad gave him this look, as if to say, _Haven't you?_, but he let it go.

"Since this place was all booked up we had to get one room, with two queen beds," Dean repeated as he lightly kicked the door open. He'd told his dad and Travis this at the restaurant but he'd felt like they weren't listening. John was too busy seething over Dean's liar boyfriend and old Travis looked like he was going over all the ways they were going to die in his head.

Sam shot up from the bed closest to the door as they entered. He had a peculiar expression on his face, like he was trying to look more innocent than a choirboy.

"What have you been up to?" Dean questioned.

"More dumbass moves behind our backs, maybe?" John put in, as he took his cargo bag's strap off his shoulder and let it fall to the carpet. "Okay," he said at the look Dean gave him. "I'm done for the night."

He walked over to the bed at the far end of the room and collapsed onto it face first without saying another word.

Dean sighed. "Sam this is Travis, Travis, this is Sam. Travis, you can take the other bed. Sam and I have a sleeping bag; we'll sleep on the floor."

The old man didn't say a word as he sat his suitcase down and went off into the bathroom.

"All right then!" Dean clapped his hands together. "I'll set the alarm. Four and a half hours of sleep is all we get."

Sam came to his side. "Your dad's taking this better than I thought he would," the taller man whispered in Dean's ear.

"Yeah," Dean whispered back. "I think he's in shock. He talked to your dad. Bobby won't make it out here in time, but he's gearing up in case we fail. You should call him, I know you guys have been on the outs for a long time, but if there was ever a day to reconcile on…"

Sam stared down at his toes. "I'll think about it."

Dean grabbed his hand. "I love you."

Sam met his eyes and returned the endearment without hesitation, but something about it sounded stale. Dean released the younger man's hand.

"You're not my Sam lately," Dean said more harshly than he'd meant to, but it felt good to say what he'd been thinking since they left Texas.

Sam didn't have a chance to reply before Travis came out of the bathroom. The room fell into an awkward silence. Dean took their sleeping bag out of the hotel closet and laid it out on the floor at the foot of the queen beds. There was barely enough room for it, but it would do for the night. Dean had had worse.

When he and Sam squeezed into the sleeping bag Dean noticed Sam making a point to spoon him. He was glad Sam didn't try to avoid him, the thing was really too tight of a fit with the two of them in it for that kind of nonsense, but something still felt off. All of Sam's actions were too forced.

Dean reached back and touched Sam through his boxers, teasing the way he knew would drive Sam absolutely crazy, even given their current circumstances.

Sam made a little sound in his throat and pressed his face into the back of Dean's neck. He didn't exactly moan though, and it took him a while to get a full erection. Well, that wasn't definitive proof of anything. Sam hated just flirting while John was in the room with them. Dean couldn't picture himself feeling too giddy with Bobby sleeping a couple feet from him.

Dean stopped groping Sam and decided to push the matter aside so he could get some sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"What if they don't come for you, little pet?" The demon asked with a sinister smile.

Mary blinked the tears out of her eyes and felt the hot streaks fall down her face, past her chin. They irritated the skin on her neck. She would have dried it with her sleeve if her hands weren't shackled above her head. Her body hung limply in the air, her downward pointed toes hanging a few inches from the floor. Her shoulder sockets were aching with a throbbing pain that numbed as blood traveled to the lower half of her body. This was her punishment, for an escape attempt.

"What will I do with you then? Perhaps I'll make your body my next host," the demon went on. "You should be flattered at the mere suggestion. I'm picky."

She felt a cold hand stroking the back of her head. She closed her eyes tight. She didn't want to see them again, his bright red eyeballs. She'd never seen a monster with eyes like that before. She wanted to forget them, to forget what they might reveal about this particular wicked being. Usually she was curious, but now she wanted nothing more than to not know a thing about him.

She dug deep within herself and took her mind away.

She saw Dean, taking his first steps while John followed him on his knees. His arms shot out in front of him to catch Dean when he lost his footing.

Dean looking up at her with an impish grin when he she had to pick him up from the principal's office, on his first day of school.

Dean, not knowing she was coming around the corner, leaning down to share a secret kiss in their backyard with a boy that was a little too young for him (only fifteen), but Sam was so smart for his age and such a good influence on Dean, so she pretended she'd never seen a thing. When Dean announced that they were in love three years later, she acted surprised. John had become suddenly obsessed with cleaning the oven while he cursed like a sailor.

She thought of her wedding day and how she hoped to live to see her son's, no matter whom might be standing at the altar beside him.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

They held their meeting at the crack of dawn, in a backroom at a smoke shop off the freeway that a hunter known as SoCal Lola owned. She was once a protégé of Travis. She smelled like pot and had braided pigtails that came all the way down to her waist. She looked like she belonged at some newage music festival. She probably wasn't the type of girl that usually attracted the seven hunters (other than John, Dean, Sam, and Travis), who had made it to the meet up, but she was the only female hunter there, so she was getting a lot of _this chick could be my last lay_ looks.

Dean wasn't too happy about the attention her opinions were getting, all due to what was between her legs, especially after she said, "I'm sorry, but this can't be about saving Mary. That would be a bonus, but we should be focusing on how to stop and kill Malimar, not on how to best walk into a trap."

Dean had never seen his dad look like he wanted to punch a woman's lights out before.

"None of y'all know where Malimar is," John said coldly. "Not one of us hunters has caught a glimpse of the son of a bitch, no matter how many of his minions we come across. We're giving you all a time and place where he is for sure going to be tomorrow. You're really going to let this chance pass us by?"

"How do you know he'll show? He could just send some of his lackeys," Lola argued.

"Because his lackeys keep screwing up and he wants this emerald real bad," John said, raising a clenched fist that held the emerald inside it. "He's going to want this done right. And if this supposedly so powerful demon went through the trouble of kidnapping Mary, instead of going on the warpath and taking us down to collect the emerald, that means he has some weakness he doesn't want to risk exposing."

Dean tuned out the squabbling that followed while he watched Sam watching someone else. His boyfriend's attention was on a black hunter with a goatee. There was fear in his eyes.

"I heard on the news several cars went missing in Texas – disappeared right into thin air!" A stocky, middle aged hunter named Diego shouted among the uproar. "Is that true?"

Sam took a swig from a flask that Travis had started passing around at some point. "It's true. I saw it with my own eyes."

Diego frowned. "If this emerald's the only thing that can stop shit like that from going down, we cannot give it up."

"I might be able to help with that," Lola revealed. "I can do some pretty convincing glamour magic. We could make a counterfeit emerald."

"Great, there's a real solution to one of our reasons for not making the trade," Dean said. "How are we going to solve the other?"

"Actually, our first priority should be figuring out how to be sure the beach is unpopulated, we don't want any innocent people caught in the cross fire," Travis threw in.

Dean shrugged his shoulder. "Easy. Bomb threat."

Lola snickered. "On a beach?"

"On the pier," Dean corrected. "You have a better idea?"

"I guess if that doesn't work a couple of us could spread out in the water and yell shark," Lola mumbled.

Dean glared and Diego laughed.

"If we call in a bomb threat, the cops are going to be crawling all over that place," Black Guy with the goatee spoke up.

"Good, Malimar will target them, and those that don't get killed can retreat and call in back up," Dean strategized. "Dealing with us _and_ a SWAT team should knock the demons off their game."

"You'd let a bunch of cops get killed?" Sam asked.

"What?" Dean barked. "It's them or my mom and the whole damn world collapsing. I don't think now is the time to pretend we're above anything."

Sam looked away from him and Dean felt a little embarrassed by his candor, but he refused to take the words back.

John stood in the middle of the room. "So, we've got a plan going. But we have two big loose ends. How to kill Malimar and who's going through if Malimar opens a portal on us?"

Sam glanced around the room at the hunters, none of which looked eager to volunteer. "I'll do it. It should be me."

"We talked about this," Dean hissed at him.

"No, I brought it up and you shot it down." Sam sighed. "Look, I know I can do it, because I've done it before. And I think I'm the key to stopping Malimar too." Sam gave him a hard look. "You were right; I'm not your Sam."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean doubled over with hysterical laughter, all the while holding the expression of a man ready to happily jump off a cliff. "Youmybrother, Sammy?" All his words rushed out together. "It can't be."

"It makes as much sense to you as us dating makes to me," Sam said softly.

John started pacing; he looked about as convinced as Dean was, but he didn't dismiss Sam's description of his world. "So, you think our Sam is in your world?"

"If what I saw wasn't him traveling there, then I'm sure he would have showed up by now."

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth in thought, and his eyes darted to his father. "Give me the emerald."

John placed a hand over the front pocket of his blue jeans. "What for?"

"Because Faux Sam is going to spell it into taking me to my boyfriend. Who knows what he's facing in that other world."

Dean came toward him and John stepped back. "Calm down, brother or boyfriend, it doesn't matter; he has another Dean to look out for him. Doesn't he, Sam?"

Sam's eyes widened. He said nothing.

"He doesn't, does he?" Dean nearly growled.

"So what?" John asked with an edge to his voice. "We need you here. Your mother needs you to focus on the task at hand."

"How am I supposed to do that when I have no idea what's happening to him right now?"

"Because you don't have a choice – I'm not giving you the emerald until we solve this crisis."

"You've never liked him, you're probably hoping he won't ever make it back," Dean accused.

"Excuse me; I hate to break up this father-son moment." Gordon Walker narrowed his eyes at Sam. "But I wanna know how this guy has special powers in this other universe?"

Sam knew if any of them would be suspicious of him, it would be Gordon. "Can't say."

"Bull," Gordon shot back, as he rose from a aluminum chair at the other end of the room.

Sam's pits started sweating. "I've told you more than I should have already. There are similar things happening in both timelines, some things that have happened in mine may happen in yours some day. I can't risk disrupting any of your fates. It could have serious consequences for this universe. Just me being here is messing with the fabric that holds everything together."

"If we can't even work together without messing our separate worlds up, then what does it matter?" Gordon asked. "If this is happening in your world at the same time there's got to be at least two of these Malimars out there acting out the exact same plan. And how do you know this power of yours will even work on either one?"

"I don't think there is more than one though," Sam explained. "Malimar is described as a rare chaos demon whose entire purpose is bringing unthinkable havoc. His favorite tool is collapsing worlds together, which could upset his own timeline to the point that he'd blink out of existence. There's no way he'd risk it if there was more than one of him. I suspect he just travels between each world, which would weaken him considerably. That's why he needs minions on both sides doing his dirty work. And as far as me being here messing things up, well, I think we can all agree me interfering with this timeline to help you beat Malimar is going to be far less destructive than his plans for this place."

"So," John began, "what you're telling us is if we kill Malimar he's dead for good, but in the process he might be able to skip off to some other universe?"

"I'm hoping he'll be too weak for that," Sam said. "We know he's been going to both sides for months now, and we know he just spent a whole lot of energy opening that portal in Texas. I doubt he has the strength to travel again."

"But it's not out of the realm of possibility?" Gordon asked.

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Fantastic," Lola muttered, "The more I know the less confident I am about going after this guy head-on."

"Look," Sam continued, "I understand everyone's concerns, but Malimar's frantic right now. He's got to be. There's only one him, but we know in at least two different worlds someone created this emerald that can instantly put a stop to all the hard work and strength he puts into opening a portal. Hopefully his weakened state, paired with his desperation for the emerald, will make him easier to take down."

John nodded. "We have to try. What's this secret power you intend to use against him?"

Everyone stared at Sam, including Dean, his gaze particularly fierce.

Sam cleared his throat. "I can't say exactly, but it's effective. It will send him straight to hell."

Lola gasped. "That takes a lot of power. Did you borrow against your soul for that?"

Sam looked down at his feet. He knew they'd all be far less horrified by that than the truth, so he didn't deny it. "Like I said, I can't say. Okay?"

Dean looked like he was about to crawl up the walls. Lola tried to offer him Travis's flask and he waved it away. "I need some air." He stomped through a beaded doorway to the front of the shop. Sam heard the main door slam behind him as he hurried outside.

"I'm ordering pizza," John announced. "We need to get some food in that boy."

"Make sure there's sausage on it," Lola demanded, before guiding the flask to her lips.

Sam welcomed the break. It gave him a minute to wash his sweat-sheened face in the bathroom. This bathroom was a lot like the one he'd accidentally killed Gem in the night before. Sam's chest felt tight at the memory, like his heart was being squeezed. His body trembled slightly.

He thought of the other Sam. He must have been a really good guy to give up the simple life Sam assumed he wanted since he'd gone to college once too. And he gave it up, not because he wanted revenge over the murder of a girlfriend that was really all his fault to begin with, but for love. His love for Dean. As sick as the thought was, Sam realized he and Dean did really complement each other as a couple, hell, even as his brother, Dean had always completed Sam's life in a way no one else could have.

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes and he let himself cry then, over the brother he no longer had, and over a love that wasn't even possible where he came from.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"I was the closest thing you had to a brother," Dean said gruffly.

Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn't know what to say. Dean kept going on rants about the past while they went searching around town for the ingredients Lola needed to make a counterfeit emerald. They'd stopped at a gas station first and Dean had bought a twelve pack of beer. He was on his seventh can.

"So you see, I felt guilty that first time. We'd been watching a wrestling match, and you were mocking the sport the entire time, and I got fed up. I decided to shut you up." Dean paused. "I was intimidated by you back then, not that I'd admit it. You went from being this nerdy pipsqueak to this tall heartthrob in about nine months and you were sharp as a tack, and I was this drop out who only Bobby seemed to want around. He taught me all the things my dad refused to, but he wouldn't train you and you'd take that out on me." Dean laughed. "Anyway, so I was tired of you giving me lip all the time. I thought maybe smacking you around would make you respect me again. I didn't expect us to both get wood… to end up humping each other like dogs."

Sam cracked his window and tried not to let his mind picture that scenario. "Do you, uh, want to listen to the radio?"

Dean ran a hand through Sam's windblown hair. "We didn't do it again for a long time after that. Before you I'd only been with girls, so I experimented and realized how right it felt with guys. I saw your face every time they made me… Then that summer came, and I went home and you tagged along. You wanted it, but you didn't want anyone else to know, about us, about you liking guys – you felt that way for years. Sometimes I felt like you'd change your mind one day, wake up a straight man who'd gone through a long phase, and leave me.

"But that summer, you losing your virginity to me, that would always be mine. Sometimes, when I'm jerking off, I still think about the sounds you made the first time I put my head between your legs." Dean glanced at Sam's lap and froze, the can of beer only an inch from his lips. "Faux Sammy, you're hard."

Sam tensed up as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the holistic shop. He suddenly felt sick, like after the time he had bad sushi. He knew he was aroused, he'd just hoped Dean wouldn't notice. He wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with him. Was being in this universe throwing him off? Driving him crazy? Was grief doing strange things to him?

It had to be, because when Dean put his head in Sam's lap Sam didn't push him away. He only managed to whisper, "What about your Sam?"

"We could die tomorrow," Dean murmured, as if that justified everything.

Sam closed his eyes and ignored his appalled conscience as the putrid feeling in his stomach was drained away by relentless pleasure that was so fierce it made him feel as if it was gutting him, leaving a warm, blinding light in the place of his innards.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam's top list of things he'd never pictured himself doing in his life:

*Pole dancing, for obvious reasons.

*Having children. Definitely not after he'd come to terms with what an awful place the world was.

*And blowing his brother was pretty much on the top of that list, whether or not the guy he was sucking off was technically not his brother.

And if he was going to blow Dean, he certainly would have never pictured himself doing it in the middle of the day, in a truck, despite all the windows being tinted.

It just didn't seem right though, allowing Dean to make him feel so good without returning the favor.

It wasn't like how Sam thought it would be. He'd always imagined giving head to be gross, at least in the context of him having another man's dick in his mouth. It wasn't gross though, it was just… different. And it was going on forever, probably because Dean was drunk and emotionally distraught. He kept crying here and there, and saying things to Sam that made no sense, but when Sam asked if Dean wanted him to stop Dean would tell him no and shove Sam's head back down.

Sam swallowed the tip into his throat and fondled Dean's balls, hoping that would speed things up. Finally, Dean's bliss overflowed. Sam tried to pull his mouth away, but Dean held his head there. "Swallow it," he hissed. It was a drunken dare.

Sam couldn't conquer the challenge. There was too much of it and the taste was too strong. He yanked his head out of Dean's hold, grabbed an empty beer can from a cup holder, and spat out the fluid that had gathered in his mouth. Dean held his bottom lip between his teeth as he pumped the last few drops out.

Sam set the empty can down and snatched the half-full beer from Dean's hand and took in a mouthful, swishing it around his mouth before he swallowed it, washing away the flavor of Dean's spunk. Dean pulled his underwear and pants back up to his waist, hiding off-white flesh that didn't blend with the rest of his skin tone.

"Damn!" Dean whistled. "You're a natural Faux Sammy."

"How did you know it was my first time?" Sam found himself staring so intently at the steering wheel that he felt as if he was asking it.

"Something about those first couple licks. It was like you were dipping your toe in the water before jumping in."

Sam downed the rest of the beer and crushed the middle of the can with his hand. No afterglow followed. There wasn't time. Sam went into the shop to get what they needed and Dean passed out in the passenger seat. He didn't wake until Sam turned into the smoke shop's lot.

"Where are we?" Dean sat up straighter.

"Back at Lola's. Are you okay?"

"No." Dean slapped a hand over his face. "What have you done to me?"

"Done to you?"

"You used your alternaverse mojo powers on me."

"Yeah, no," Sam scoffed. "That's not how they work."

"Whatever, all I know is this was not my fault," Dean grumbled. "And who does that with their brother?"

Sam pushed the driver's door open. "You're unbelievable."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The interactions for the rest of the day between Faux Sammy and Dean were like watching awkward doing a mating dance with shame.

Dean did his best to keep thoughts of his mom in the front of his mind, and to shove all his thoughts about Sam, and what he'd done with Sam's imposter, in the back where they belonged at the moment. Besides, putting an end to Malimar was part of saving his mother, and that would be a major step towards solving this clusterfuck.

Dean brought his focus back to the mission as he watched Lola do her thing. She was sitting on a tie dye rug with her legs criss-cross.

"We're lucky this baby's small," Lola commented, as she took the ingredients for the counterfeit emerald into her right palm and clenched her hand into a fist. "It will make this a lot easier." John placed the real emerald in her left palm, and she closed it in a fist as well as she brought it to her chest, pressing it against her heart.

She began chanting then, in some language that Dean couldn't even pronounce the name of. A pink fire encircled her, and rose just above her head before it sunk back into the floor and disappeared. When she opened her right hand everyone peered at the perfect forgery.

Lola beamed. "It worked. Not only does it look the part, but it should give off a hum of magic for some time, more than enough to fool Malimar tomorrow."

"Well done," John praised, as he took the real emerald back. "That must have taken quite a bite out of you. You sure you're up to fighting with us?"

Lola's smile wavered. "I'll do my best."

John and Dean helped Lola to her feet as Gordon came up behind them.

"Dean, can I have a word?"

Dean turned to face him. "Sure. It's Gordon, right?"

Gordon nodded. "Let's step outside."

Dean followed him out the rear exit. "What's up?"

"I mean no disrespect," Gordon began. He frowned as he stared off into the darkening distance. "But I think you and your father's judgment is clouded here."

Dean folded his arms. "How so?"

"Because you made a guy who's juicing on demon blood the key player in this mission."

"Sam." Dean said the name like it was new to him. "That's how he can send demons to hell?"

"That would be my guess."

"Shit." Dean widened the space between him and Gordon, slowly stepping further from the building until felt like he had enough air to himself, to help him take the truth in. "So, the stories are true."

"Which ones?" Gordon questioned.

"Does it matter? They all end badly."

Gordon smirked. "You're right, but this one doesn't have to. We have to do something."

Dean stalked to the rear door and gripped its knob so tight his knuckles turned white. "We should talk to my dad."

"No," Gordon said quickly. "All he cares about is saving your mother. You think he doesn't know about demonic drinkers? About the power it gives them? He knows, he just can't afford to care. Just like how he doesn't give a damn about your boyfriend. Of course he doesn't want him back; he wants the Sam here that's the most useful to him."

Part of Dean wanted to defend his father, or to rush inside and ask if him knowing about Faux Sam was true, but that part of Dean was not stronger than the voice inside his head that told him to let go of the knob.


	8. Chapter 8

It took Sam a moment to realize what was happening. He woke up with a black bag over his head. He tried to scream but duct tape had sealed his mouth shut. His wrists and ankles were tied so tight he could only flail on the floor like a fish out of water before his captors carried him to the trunk of a car and shoved him inside in a very awkward position, with his hands pressed up against his neck, his arms sandwiched between his chest and bent legs.

For a while all Sam heard was the roaring of the car engine and the rush of tires rolling fast across asphalt. He had no idea where he was being taken, only that the car was most likely on the freeway, and that it was speeding further and further from Lola's.

When the car finally came to a stop, and Sam heard the trunk pop open, he wasn't surprised that Gordon's voice broke the silence, but he would have never imagined the reply that followed would fall from Dean's lips.

"Let's get him inside," Gordon said.

"Who owns this place?" Dean asked.

"An old friend, he set this place up for exorcisms and cleansings."

Sam didn't struggle as they lifted him out of the trunk. He just went limp; making sure it wasn't easy for them to carry his dead weight. He listened carefully to hear how labored their breaths were, and he took note of how strained the arms and hands were that had their hold on him. He could tell Dean and Gordon were pushing through a weak state. That made sense; they'd all been forced to hurry to California and had barely slept since. They'd all also been drinking, which helped to ease the tension, but took away some of their agility. Sam figured he could probably take them on well enough to escape if he could just get his wrists and ankles free.

The men grabbed Sam by the arms and dragged him. His shoes knocked against wooden stairs as he was dragged up a porch. He heard a door fly open and warm air hit him.

"Someone's here," Dean whispered.

"Yeah," Gordon said softly. "That's odd. I thought Luke was up North."

Dean and Gordon brought Sam into the house and left him there on the carpet, he knew he was lying in front of the open door because of the cold air that was spilling in and the sounds of crickets in the night.

For about five minutes Sam heard rummaging noises and slow, cautious footfalls from all directions, before Gordon and Dean returned to him.

"This doesn't make sense," Dean said. "The fridge is stocked, there're dirty dishes in the sink. Someone has definitely been here recently. Do you think we spooked them? Maybe they're hiding out back?"

"But there's no car," Gordon said. "Maybe they stepped out. I'll have a talk with them when they get back."

Sam heard the door shut before he was dragged again, his shirt riding up his back, exposing skin that rubbed against cool linoleum before he was pulled up and dropped into a chair. Someone loosened the binds on his wrists and quickly pulled them behind his back and bound them to the back of the chair.

"Can I take this off now?" Dean asked.

Gordon didn't respond, when the blackness was pulled away from Sam's eyes, he was the one holding the bag in his hand. And he was the one who tore the tape off Sam's lips.

"Ouch, damn," Sam cursed. His lips burned like they'd had a bad encounter with the sun. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you the help you need, coward," Gordon said coldly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam huffed. "I'm the coward? You jumped me in my sleep—"

Gordon cut him off with a punch to the face. The blow caught Sam's right cheek and his neck snapped back as his mouth fell open in surprise. "No lies are permitted here, friend," Gordon commanded, massaging his knuckles. "You're a coward all right. It takes a special kind to take blood from a demon to get stronger, but I doubt this is even about you being a good hunter at this point; you're just addicted to it. That's what happens. Sure, the powers are useful for a while, but then they don't even matter, hunting doesn't matter, all that matters is getting your next fix."

Sam's first instinct was to deny, deny, deny, but Dean and Gordon's faces were etched with certainty, and Dean already looked too wounded by Sam's deception – he couldn't risk trying to lie to him again, it was all he'd done since he'd entered this world and it never worked out.

"We're going to get you clean," Dean promised.

"Are you kidding me?" Sam gave Dean a puppy dog look he knew _his_ Dean would respond to. "We don't have time for this. And if I'm clean I won't be strong enough to fight Malimar! Dean, what about your mother?"

"Don't you talk about my mother – you don't even know my mother!" Dean shouted. "Besides, we don't need you to make the trade. We'll find another way to stop Malimar."

Dean put on his stoniest face and stormed out of the house before Sam could say another word.

"You're making a big mistake! Dean! Dean! You can't do this!" Sam bellowed, not even trying to hide his panic now. "Demon blood is part of my destiny where I come from! You can't mess with that!"

"Good one," Gordon chuckled, with a gleam in his eye.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

By the time Dean arrived back at Lola's the sun was almost up. John and Travis had risen but the others were still asleep. When Dean told John what he'd done his father did not regard him with rage like he'd anticipated, he just gazed at him with deep disappointment.

"Yeah, I knew," John admitted freely. "So he's a demonic drinker, so what? He's not our problem. He doesn't even belong to our world. We only need him to stop Malimar and then he's gone."

Dean's eyes moved from his father to take in a lineup of bongs on a glass enclosed shelf. Oh, what he would have given to be high at that moment. "Gordon doesn't think that's a good idea, he believes Sam could compromise this mission and do our universe a lot of harm. It was bad enough having him here when we thought he was stable. Until we're ready to send him home – he stays in detox."

"Who do you think you are?" John's voice rose. "This is about your Sam, just about every damn thing you've done with your life is about him one way or another. You're panicked and you don't know what to do without him, without someone to lead you, so you pick this Gordon guy to follow."

"You're the one that's the most compromised in this situation," Dean argued. "Your mind is on mom, and no one else, and why shouldn't it be? She's the only one in this family you ever gave a crap about once I didn't turn out how you wanted me to!"

John threw up a hand. "Oh, grow up! What was I supposed to do? Praise you for ruing your education? For walking out on your family? For training to hunt behind my back?"

"I didn't walk out – you pushed me out!" Dean hollered. He heard the other hunters rousing in the back room. "You made it clear I wasn't welcomed there, that the only reason I wasn't kicked out on my ass was because mom didn't have the heart to do it!"

"That's right; your mother loved you even when you fucked up every attempt she made to straighten you out! And this is the thanks she gets!"

"Enough!" Lola shouted, as she rushed through the beaded curtains. "Fellas, calm down. What is this about?"

John turned away from his son and began pacing. "Why don't you ask Dean why Travis and I woke to the sight of him, Gordon, and Sam missing?"

Lola stared at Dean. "What?"

"Without a single note to let us know something terrible hadn't happened to them," John added, his voice clipped. "We were just about to wake you all in a panic before he got here."

Dean set his jaw and stared back at Lola without a hint of uncertainty. "Sam's out. We need a new plan and fast."

Lola's hand shot up to cover her mouth. "Did something happen to him?"

"Dean and Gordon decided to hold him up somewhere against his will," John barked.

Dean finally looked at him again. "The guy got his powers from juicing on demon blood! My dad knew. He just wasn't interested in filling the rest of us in. It's a good thing Gordon's an honest man or we could have walked into an already risky situation with an unstable guy, with powers we don't know fuck all about!"

John snorted."Right, you're so outraged by me keeping secrets. That's why you didn't bring this to the attention of the group and dealt with it yourselves."

"Hey!" Lola snapped. "Don't you two start fighting again, that isn't going to get us anywhere."

Dean marched past Lola and into the bathroom, fighting to keep his stomach from overflowing before he reached the toilet.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"I have to pee," Sam said casually.

"Hold on." Gordon stood from his seat at the table, where he'd been mixing an variety of colorful liquids, spices, and herbs in a pot. He'd claimed he was making something that would accelerate Sam's purification.

"This will have to do." He went to a cabinet and pulled out a cup before he walked over to Sam. "Because I sure as hell ain't untying you." He got on his knees and swiftly removed Sam's dick from his pants. "Don't piss on my hands."

"How can I control that?" When Gordon didn't answer him, Sam decided to try another topic, to take his mind off Gordon's callused hand on his junk. "Your friend keeps that stuff you're fixing up here? How do you know it's all as fresh as it should be?"

"Everything looks right." Sam's steady stream of urine stopped and Gordon shook off the last drop before he put things back where they belonged. "I've done this before."

"So," Sam began, as Gordon turned his back to him to face the sink. "How did it go?"

Gordon cast a foreboding look over his shoulder. "The coward didn't make it."

**I promise the next update (on Saturday) will advance the story a lot more. I wrote the next two chapters, I've just been too under the weather to properly edit them.**


	9. Chapter 9

Dean felt the caress of fear through his haze of determination as he and Diego stepped out of his pickup truck. They were parked in the lot at the base of the pier, giving them a good view from a distance of the evacuated platform, even through the pounding rain. Normally at a beach, at a time of day like this, Dean would have lounged back and admired the dancing pink and yellow over the surface of the water while sipping a cold one. But this wasn't that type of afternoon.

"Looks like Malimar and his gang are already here!" Lola shouted through the thud of rain and howl of wind, as she tucked her braided pigtails inside her sweatshirt.

Eight figures in dark hoodies were spread out at the ocean end of the pier, in front of the small aquarium. They appeared undaunted by the sudden, mysterious monster storm that had hit sometime in the late morning. Thankfully for the hunters, it had forced people to stay away. None of them had been thrilled about the possibility of involving the cops in a beachfront battle.

Gordon was the last hunter to arrive, and he parked behind Dean. "Sorry I'm late!" Gordon yelled as he got out of his El Camino.

Dean glared at him. "Did you get my message?"

"Yes, I couldn't return the call," Gordon replied. "I was preoccupied. I had to booby trap the house. Not with anything fatal, but whoever was there before we arrived never returned and I don't want to risk someone coming along who's stupid enough to unchain Sam. I also had to get in touch with Luke. Someone needs to know he's there in case we all die."

Dean nodded. "It's not a big deal anyway; I just needed to update you on the mission."

"Well, hurry up and lay it on me."

Dean pointed in the direction of a two-story concrete building near the front of the pier. "Go down to the beach, there are stairs that lead right up to that lifeguard station. See if you can get on the roof or top balcony. Lola will signal you guys with her pink flame."

"Okay, who's in my party?"

"Everyone but Lola, John, and me."

"You don't think we'll be noticed?"

"I'm sure you will, it's not like they told us to come alone, they know we wouldn't trust those orders in a million years. We just need you in that position – I don't care if they know you're there."

Gordon slapped Dean's shoulder. "You're the boss."

Was he? Dean didn't like the sound of that. He wanted anyone but him to be in charge of this mission, but he supposed it was his duty to take charge of things going smoothly since he'd derailed the last plan.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

It was as if the weather taking over the graying beach was a living entity. It fought John and the others as they made their way to the end of the pier. John held a flat hand over his eyes, but that didn't do much good. Guarding them from the rain didn't make it less thick. It was impossible to see things clearly until there were only about twelve steps separating them from the gang of eight hooded demons, and Mary, in nothing but a nightshirt. Her quivering arms were wrapped tightly around her middle, and her long blonde hair whipped all around her head. She looked so small and helpless.

John's wife stood slightly behind one demon, he was the tallest, and the others stood on either side of him, three to his left, and four to his right.

"All right, Malimar, you bastard," John choked out as loudly as he could. "How do you want to do this?"

The tallest demon made a noise that sounded like bit back laughter. "You are a fool, John Winchester," the demon said, in an all too familiar deep voice.

"Sammy?" Dean took a step closer.

John held out an arm. "No, son. That's not Sam anymore."

The demon removed his hood, revealing Sam's face, and a manic smile. "There's only one other agent of chaos in this universe, the only thing that could put a stop to me – and you didn't bring him with you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean took a running stance. "You god damn monster!"

"Oh, I don't think that's relevant to you," the demon said, "since you're all about to die."

Malimar swooped in and grabbed Lola so fast no one could stop him.

The resounding blasts of shots fired from the roof drowned out every other noise. A month's worth of stockpiled rock salt was ejected into the air. It came down with the rain and Malimar's gang panicked as if they were being showered in acid. The demons let out bloodcurdling screams, and darted off in different directions.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The salt kept coming, and Dean watched in stunned silence as his father made a beeline for his mom while Malimar hurled Lola with him over the railing of the pier.

"The beach! Follow him!" Dean roared at the top of his lungs. Although he was sure no one on the tower heard him through all the commotion, and doubted they could see what was taking place through the downpour now that the beach was being swallowed by night.

Dean leapt off the pier and fell on his knees, into the wet sand. It caked over his arms and hands as he pushed himself up. That's when he saw a pink flame jump almost twelve feet high.

They were close, Malimar had dragged Lola down by the water. Just as Dean bolted toward them Malimar flung Lola into the ocean so hard that she sunk under the surface with the force of a car crashing into water. Then the demon was racing to meet Dean, putting himself in Dean's path so fast the hunter didn't have time to react.

They collided as Dean felt hands clutching his body with a crushing strength, before he was thrown towards the sky. Dean slammed into the concrete floor of the pier when he came back down to earth. His ringing ears heard a loud whoosh, like something was flying towards him. Sam – no Malimar – was traveling through the air. After he landed on his feet beside Dean, Malimar picked him up again, and Dean felt part of his scalp bust open as Malimar drove his head into the railing. He fell on his back, and the last blurry sight he caught before he passed out was blood splattered over aqua-colored railing.


	10. Chapter 10

Gordon had chained Sam to a bed before he left, which wouldn't have sucked as much for Sam if Gordon hadn't made him drink the accelerant first. The linked metal kept morphing into snakes. Some of the serpents even spoke to him.

"Thirst is death," one hissed, as it untangled its upper half from the others so it could kiss Sam's cheek.

The snake was right. He was incredibly thirsty, so much so he felt like he was meeting his death in a desert. In a nightmare wasteland, with coal black sand and a sun that never greeted the moon.

Sam didn't know how much time passed before he stopped thrashing against the hold of the chains and curled up on the burning sand, ready to die. Then, in the moment he thought he would find peace, he heard Dean sobbing.

Sam's eyes flew open and took in a head of mousy brown hair that was bowed by his side. A patch of brown was missing where Dean's scalp had been shaved and stitched. He was on his knees, his face was in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking with his cries.

"Are you real?"

Dean's hands wiped at his cheeks and dropped before he lifted his head. The sight of his pale, dejected face gave Sam goosebumps. "You must think you're in the afterlife. I've never pictured myself in a suit in this life either, but maybe your brother was different."

It came back to Sam in a violent rush that made him feel nauseous. This wasn't his world and the man wearing the black suit wasn't his Dean.

"What's the occasion?" Sam asked grimly.

"Sam Singer's funeral," Dean whispered. "He died the instant Malimar left his body."

"Malimar," Sam paused as he realized the chains were gone. He propped himself up on his elbows. "He possessed your Sam?"

"I should have seen it coming," Dean murmured. "I had this feeling – I knew he wasn't safe. And I knew I wasn't just being paranoid. This thing didn't make sense from the start. I kept asking myself how the hell Malimar knew we had the emerald if the portal in Texas had closed. He had to know someone took an emerald through it. He had to have chased after them." Dean shook his head. "Why didn't I say something?"

"Jesus – that never crossed my mind. I thought he would think he was rusty or that he wasn't strong enough to open a proper portal for long."

"He's stronger than you thought," Dean said sharply. "We've got about twenty-five hunters guarding this place at any given time and I doubt they could seriously take him on, other than Lola, but she's burnt out."

"Guarding this house? Why?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "To protect you. You have to stop him."

"No, no, no," slipped out of Sam's quivering lips. "I'm clean. You can't – not after what I've just been through!"

Dean bowed his head again. "You're not clean. I've been feeding you demon blood for three days now. You haven't been lucid until today because I was giving you less than a cup, to gradually bring you back and to get your system used to it again."

Sam collapsed back on the bed and his throat vibrated with dark laughter. "Gordon must love this."

"Gordon left with the original hunters in our group. Only Lola and Travis stayed." Dean got to his feet and started pacing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips, doing quite the impression of his father during their time at the smoke shop. "They still believe my other plan was the best option – using Devil's Traps carved into bullets to shut Malimar in his meatsuit before destroying it. We never even got a chance to try that out. I was so shocked when I saw that he'd possessed my Sam and he was so fast – so strong. He attacked Lola and she did some serious magic on him through touch. If she hadn't cursed Sam's body he would have killed us all, but when he was forced out there weren't any bodies nearby for him to enter. The beach was vacant because of a storm and all of us hunters had anti-possession items on us."

"Why don't you think your other strategy could work, if you had the man power?"

"Because of something Malimar said, about you."

"And you believed him?"

"He didn't even expect any of us to live to see another day to fight him. There was no reason for him to make something like that up, he just wanted to throw how stupid we were in our faces before we died."

"Well, what did he say?"

"He said only another agent of chaos could stop him – and that's you."

"Me? I'm an agent of chaos."

"Yep."

"Wha—no, that doesn't make sense." Those were the words that came out of Sam's mouth, but part of him knew that it made perfect sense. Wasn't that what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had wanted to groom Sam for? He wanted to use Sam to do an incredibly chaotic act.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I don't know why you're meant to bring chaos, and really I couldn't care less at this point. The fact of the matter is you are Malimar's only opponent. He was planning on capturing and eventually possessing my Sam all along, that's why he opened the portal in Texas. Think about it, he probably knew you and my Sam would be on either side of the portal. He wanted one of you to go through with the emerald, so he could have both Sams and both emeralds in one place. He was going to kill four birds with one stone, but he didn't anticipate you and my Sam both going through the portal."

Sam sat up and flung his legs over the side of the bed. "But why would possessing your Sam be part of the plan?"

"Bobby looked into this multiple worlds stuff after my dad told him his son was in the other universe and that you were from there. Being faced with your doppelganger from another world, mainly if that world is very close to your own, is not a good idea. Just being in close proximity can cause the reality around them to become so distorted they can phase in and out of existence. If Malimar had all but touched you, the experience would have disoriented you so badly you wouldn't have been able to use your powers against him."

"Okay, that makes sense. I remember seeing that in some of the accounts I researched."

"I guess it's the only bright side to my Sam's body being useless to him now," Dean said hoarsely.

Sam stared at the carpet. "Um, how are you feeling?"

Dean came to a stop. "How do you think?"

Sam sighed. "Sorry. I – just – never mind, did Malimar take the counterfeit emerald at face value?"

"Yeah, that was the only thing that went right the other night. Lola had it on her, that's why he went after her. She thinks he could have destroyed it before even discovering the truth, but if he's kept it around he should know it's fake soon. She's been casting locator charms to try and find the thing's location and coming up with nothing, so she thinks it's more likely he got rid of it."

The room went quiet for a moment before Dean asked, "Can I sit with you?"

Sam looked up at him. He was wearing the expression of a lost puppy. The abrupt change in mood had rendered the taller man speechless, but he managed to nod his head.

"I knew we wouldn't live to be old men," Dean said, as he positioned himself so close to Sam that the younger man could smell the booze on his breath. "I just thought I'd go first."

"You would have preferred that," Sam breathed. It wasn't a question.

Dean didn't say a word to Sam as his hand moved to stroke Sam's thigh. Sam knew they were about to spiral into another inexplicable bout of lust like they'd experienced in the truck, but he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Dean kissed him then. It should have been disgusting, feeling another man's stubble brush against his cheek, the same stubble that used to grow on his own dead brother's face. He felt anything but disgust though. He was actually struck with the desire for _more_.

Sam grabbed Dean's knotted tie, pulled his head closer, and opened his mouth wider so Dean could thrust his tongue inside. Dean took his time with the lip lock, like he wanted to memorize the way Sam's mouth made his feel.

Sam shivered at the tingling sensation in his belly when the long kiss ended. "What is this?"

"I want you," Dean said huskily, his hot breath playing on Sam's wet lips.

Sam's eyes fell upon the bulge in Dean's pants and he felt dizzy. "I can see that. Are you going to blame it on my 'mojo' again when you sober up?"

Dean's mouth stretched into a sad smile. "I promise not to – if you promise not to call me 'brother' in bed."

Sam made a face. "You can shut up now."

Their next kiss was hungrier.


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of hunters arguing in the front room brought Sam out of his sleep, but Dean kept on snoring from his spot in the crook of Sam's arm.

"I want to see him in action!" An unfamiliar male voice shouted.

"I'm sure he'll agree to that, Archer," Bobby said in a hushed voice. "But we have to let him recover first."

"What are we supposed to tell our men?" Archer asked. "We came here based off you and John's word. We've spent man power we could use on finding Malimar on protecting this guy. I need to be able to prove to my men this is legit."

Sam groaned and tuned them out. So, he was going to have to put on a show to appease everyone. Hurray.

Taking his mind to lighter places, Sam looked at Dean and licked his lips. He could still taste the other man's climax in his mouth. This time the flavor hadn't caught him off guard, so he'd been able to swallow. Sam could feel his lips stretching into a goofy grin as he placed a kiss on Dean's scruffy cheek. Why was he feeling so good? Maybe the demon blood Dean had been feeding him for three days had something to do with it.

"Hmmm, morning already?" Dean said groggily, as his eyes flew open.

"Early morning, six a.m.," Sam said, glancing at an alarm clock on the bedside table. Three 40 ounce bottles of beer were standing empty next to it.

Dean smiled. "I needed that… I mean, the sleep, but the other part was nice too."

It had been more than nice. Sam thought it had been nothing short of incredible, especially when Dean took Sam's balls in his mouth.

That memory made Sam blush. "You haven't been resting much?"

"I was too busy watching over you." Dean grimaced. "I'm not letting two Sams die on my watch."

Sam swallowed a lump and tried to say something, but the reply died in his throat just as the thunder roared.

Rain started tapping against the window. Sam untangled himself from Dean so he could go to it, and drew back a dusty blue curtain. The veil of water surrounding the house went from just thick to ferocious in an instant, pounding the glass so hard that it sounded like the window was being pelted with rocks. The barren dirt in the backyard darkened and turned to mud.

Dean got up from the bed and bolted out the door in nothing but his black boxers.

"Where are you going?" Sam hollered after him, turning away from the window.

The tall man was pulling up his own pants when John rushed into the room. "Sam, in the circle!" John shouted, making a wide this-way motion with his hand. "Now!"

Sam followed him into the kitchen, passing hunters who were frantically loading guns. The breakfast table was gone and a Devil's Trap took up nearly the entire floor of the kitchen. A red rope was encircling the trap. Sam recognized it from a box of spelled items Lola had showed him at the smoke shop. She used it with concealment charms.

"Get in here," John ordered, pulling Sam into the circle with him and Mary.

"Hi… Sam," Mary said weakly, holding up a hand. Her eyes burned with despair.

Sam was immediately aware of how strange this was for both of them. To each other, they were in the presence of the dead. For Mary, she'd lost someone she knew for many years, and she'd just attended his funeral, and here was his doppelganger, standing right next to her.

For Sam it was heart breaking in another way, because here was a version of a woman who'd given birth to him, who'd died trying to keep him safe, and that was as much as he'd ever really know about her. He'd never have the chance to know the real her; she would always exist to him through the perspective of others.

Well, even though this Mary wasn't Sam's mother, she was close enough, and he wasn't going to miss out on the opportunity to know her. So, he put on a friendly smile and tried not to think about smelling awful after days of being chained to a bed, or that he was standing shirtless in a Devil's Trap because something bad was likely to happen any minute.

"Hi, Mary. It's nice to meet you," Sam said with his friendliest tone of voice, the kind he might use while coaxing a small child into trusting him – not that he thought of Mary that way.

Mary covered her mouth with one hand and looked away from him as tears welled up in her eyes. "Sorry, sorry," she whispered. "It's just – you really are just like him."

Sam's smile faded as his gaze dropped to the floor. "It's okay." When his eyes rose they met John's. "Where's Dean?"

"Hell if I know, he ran out of here in his Hanes."

Sam's stomach did flip-flops as the answer came to him. "He thinks Malimar's out there, but he's not!"

"Damn it, Sam, stay in the circle!" John barked, as Sam headed straight for the door.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The living storm suddenly swallowing them, the weird electric current-y tingle vibrating along Dean's spine, they all meant one thing. Malimar had found them already. He'd come to kill Sam, and Dean was going to find his evil smug ass waiting in the street with his minions, ready for an easy fight and swift victory.

Dean wouldn't let that happen though – he was going to… He wasn't sure how he would stop Malimar exactly. It had been hard for him to see that through the pure rage that had shadowed his grief, and it wasn't until he had raced out into the street that his anger wavered enough to let him see that he hadn't thought this through.

And then, as the smell of burnt tinfoil filled the air, he saw it, a black tsunami of energy tearing open the sky.

"Dean! Dean!"

Dean whipped around to see Sam calling to him from the porch. He felt his feet move beneath him, bringing him further from the portal and closer to Sam with every stride, but Sam still looked so far and the pulse of the portal was so strong.

Sam leapt off the porch and stretched an open hand out in front of him. Blood gushed out of his nose as the portal closed, and the skies began to calm.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean's mouth dropped open. "_Holy shit_. How did you do that?"

"I don't know," Sam said softly, wiping the blood off his face, smearing it over his damp forearm.

"No wonder why the son of a bitch wants you dead."

Dean watched him intently as Sam walked into the street, searching for signs of the demon. But any sense Sam had felt of Malimar's presence had disappeared with the gateway, for all Sam knew the demon had opened the portal from its other side.

The rain let up as Sam faced Dean and frowned at him. The older man was soaked. "Let's get inside and dry you off before you catch a cold."

Dean glanced at both of their muddy, bare feet. His eyes were wide and full of fear. "Sammy, you can't go back in there." He shivered a little as he came closer to Sam and kept his voice low. "Get in my truck. There's an extra key in the glove compartment. Go to the smoke shop. Lola's there. I think we can trust her."

"Dean – slow down."

Dean put on a hard face. "We can't afford to slow down! You had no idea you could tap into powers like Malimar, who knows if you can even control them? What if you accidentally open a damn portal and suck everyone in? We need to get you away from everyone, for their safety, and your own. And I need to get that emerald from Lola in case I'm sucked in next time."

"How am I in anymore danger than I was before?"

Dean sighed. "If you'd been conscious when all that stuff with Gordon went down you wouldn't have to ask. Everyone's already spooked by having an agent of chaos on our team. And your demonic blood addiction isn't helping. How do you think they'll react when they find out you could have the power to collapse worlds? Come on now, use your damn head and just do what I say."

"Fine," Sam snapped. "Then I'll go, but I don't want you tagging along. You've been through enough. I'll handle Malimar on my own."

Dean shook his head. "You've lost your mind if you think I'm not going to watch that son of a bitch go down!"

It was Sam's turn to sigh. Something in Dean's eyes told him this was no time for an argument, so he gave in. "You want me to leave without you? Like this?"

Dean nodded. "I'll meet up with you soon."

Sam had the urge to kiss Dean goodbye, but he let it pass and went to the truck.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

It looked like Lola had re-opened her place. Sam saw customers coming in and out of the smoke shop as he pulled into the packed parking lot. He looped around the shop and parked in the back.

As he cut the engine he again entertained the thought of taking off without Dean. Revenge takes people to dark places; Sam knew that better than anyone. Maybe he could save Dean from crossing that line. And he wasn't so sure revenge was the only thing keeping Dean attached to taking down Malimar. Maybe he just wanted to be close to a version of his dead lover. Why was it Sam's responsibility to be that for him? Although, hadn't Sam felt the same way? The only difference being that he had lost a brother.

Maybe part of his hesitance to let Dean join him was stemming from the loss of his Dean. Watching this Dean's reaction to the death of Sam Singer tore open a great big gaping hole, releasing all the emotions Sam had barricaded inside himself. The only thing heavier than the anguish that was weighing down his mind was his nerves. What if he could open portals as well as he'd closed one? What if he accidentally opened a portal now? What if it swallowed up Lola's?

Sam felt a little queasy as he walked into the backdoor of the shop.

"Whoa, who are you?" A pale young man with dreadlocks (who couldn't be older than twenty) asked him.

Sam looked down at dreadlocks-guy, way down—the startled guy was short. Sam was suddenly very aware of his disheveled state. Before he could put a story together Lola came marching into the back.

"Jerome, how many times—" she closed her mouth and came to a stop when she saw Sam.

Sam waved. "Hey, we need to talk."

Lola's eyes fixed on the anti-possession symbol tattooed just below his collar bone. "That's brilliant."

Sam smiled despite himself. "Thanks."

"Jerome, go dust something elsewhere." She pointed behind her with her thumb, towards the front.

Dreadlocks-guy said something under his breath as he obeyed the order.

"I heard that!" Lola yelled after him, but the edge to her voice did not match her perky expression. "Jesus," she whispered as she gazed up and down Sam's body. "Please explain why you have no shoes or shirt and smell like a dumpster."

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Lola lived in a dinky looking, one story condo not far from her shop. Dean made a face at the sound of freeway traffic as he stepped out of the passenger's side of the Impala. He moved to the front of the car and nodded his head at John in the driver's seat. John nodded back, his stern face not showing any second thoughts as the car went into reverse.

Dean frowned as he watched the Impala drive off, wondering if his father even cared at this point if Dean died. He was sure his mother would have shown more concern when they shared their goodbyes, if he'd told her he wasn't coming back. John thought it was best for him to give her the full story after he returned alone.

Dean aggressively knocked on the door, causing Lola to open it with a quick yank and glare on her face.

"Did the door give you attitude or something?"

Dean avoided her eyes. "I didn't enjoy the ride over here. Where's Sam?"

She walked backwards, pulling the door open wider so Dean could fit through the entryway with the two large duffle bags that were strapped over his shoulders. "He's in the shower. Are you going to join him?"

"Excuse me?"

Lola smiled, that damn knowing smile women do so well. "He had a bumpy ride here too. Got upset. Said some things."

Dean ignored that, letting the duffle bags fall to his feet as she closed the door.

The inside of the condo wasn't what Dean had expected. There were no lava lamps or bean bag chairs. The interior of the studio had a sleek Asian style. From the dark wood floors to the minimalist furniture, the kind that was sitting criss-cross friendly. She had a small dining table that was the height of a coffee table. Four red pillows were positioned around it in the place of chairs.

Lola's dressed mattress rested on the floor with no box spring or bed frame, against the far wall, next to a tiny kitchen (if you could call it a kitchen).

The sink was only slightly wider than a lunchbox. There was a motel fridge, and a microwave sitting on a small island with wheels that took up most the space of a little area that's base was tiled in tiny mint-green rectangles.

"This is a nice place for its size," Dean said.

Lola snorted. "Don't sound too surprised."

"I didn't mean anything by it." Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Are you sure you don't mind us using this condo?"

"I'm sure. There's only two other places I've taken the time to spell to be as safe as here, my shop, and my boyfriend's house. I'd rather stay with my guy anyway. He has a pool."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Ah, so there is a Mr. SoCal Lola?"

"Yeah, and if you don't mind, I'd rather not introduce you beautiful boys to him," she said with sugary sweetness. "He's bisexual—and has a bad case of wandering eyes."

Dean held a hand to his chest. "I understand." He walked over to a door that was right behind the kitchen. He could hear running water on the other side."Shower's through here?"

"And the closet." Lola grabbed a silver chain that was wrapped around her neck and pulled it off, over her head. The emerald of worlds was dangling off the end of it. "You better keep this safe. And I better head out."

Dean took the emerald and decorated his own neck with it. "We will. Do you need any help?"

"I took my stuff out to the car earlier." Lola reached into her pocket, pulled out a key, and handed it to Dean. "If you need anything, you know my number. Oh, and Dean," she said quietly, stopping midway through the door to look back at him. "You know his Dean is dead, right?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair, and was unable to stop himself from scratching at his stitches. "Yes, I figured as much…"

"Being in a room with a lookalike of a dead loved one is disturbing, but it could lead to real closure. Saying the things we never got to say and all that." She tilted her head as her eyes gently pierced into him. "Think about it."

After Lola finally completed her exit, Dean locked the deadbolt, as if that would protect them from an agent of chaos.

With weariness clinging to him, he went into the kitchen and turned on the faucet, bending down so he could sip from the stream of cool water. He heard Sam turn off the shower.

A moment later a mostly dry Sam stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a towel around his waist. "Hey, Dean."

Dean wiped his mouth. "Hey."

"Where's Lola?"

"You just missed her."

"Oh, well, we shared parting words before I showered anyway." Sam straightened his back. "So… you, uh, have a change of clothes for me?"

Dean's eyes darted from Sam's bare chest to the duffle bags. He took two wide steps, picked one up, and chucked it at Sam. And some part of Dean thought he'd done that just to see Sam's towel drop, because it did, the second Sam let go of it to catch the duffle bag.

Sam's cheeks flushed as he dropped the bag and quickly retrieved the towel. "This—this is a nice place, huh?"

Dean knew he should probably look away but his eyes felt frozen on Sam's lean body. "It's small though," he said slowly.

"You should see the closet," Sam said earnestly.

Dean could tell it was Sam's way of saying: I know you just saw me naked hours ago, in the heat of the moment, but I'm not comfortable dressing in front of you while you shamelessly ogle me.

"Why not?" Is what courteously came out of Dean's mouth, however his eyes stayed on Sam for most of his journey to the door.

The bathroom had a strange setup. The first door led to a toilet and vanity, the next door led to the shower, and the last door led to the closet.

The closet was a stoner girl's dream. It was as big as the main room. It had fluffy purple carpeting, and there was a black library armchair in the middle of the room. A little maroon spray painted side table sat beside it that housed an ashtray atop it, which was full of lipstick smudged stubs. Hanged clothes were stuffed together on the racks that lined three of the walls, and above the racks were zebra print shelves that displayed various types of bongs. Dean peeked inside the drawers of a black dresser that was next to the door. Lola had left behind a couple pill bottles filled with weed.

Dean stared hard at the bottles and thought, _Maybe this could loosen Sam up, if the mood is right_.

Or maybe not. Should you mix demonic blood and drugs of any kind? Dean really didn't want to chance setting Sam off. What if the relaxation of a high mixed with demonic powers caused him to open a portal? Kind of a silly thought, but safe was better than sorry.

Dean did know that Sam was perfectly fine when he was drinking. So, he was going to have to go with his old buddy alcohol to help set the mood for closure. He could live with that.

Dean collapsed into the arm chair as the wheels in his head began turning.


	13. Chapter 13

"We need fun!" Dean announced, as he strolled out of the bedroom with his arms spread.

Sam looked pointedly at Dean's head. "We need to rest and brainstorm."

"Why? If Malimar was leaving this area he probably would have already, and if he does we'll know because the weather will stop being wonky." Dean grabbed his smart phone out of his back pocket and started browsing for gay bars in the area. "Ah, I have just the place."

"Dean…"

"This is what we need," Dean said roughly. "It's a chance to unwind, and to talk things over."

"Fine," Sam huffed. He pulled a jean jacket out of the duffle bag and shoved his arms into the sleeves.

The bar wasn't far from the condo. They hopped on the free way, got off on the nearest exit, and turned down a small one-way lane. The street parking spaces were all taken, so Dean had to drive down a ways to park, on the opposite side of the road.

Where they were going didn't seem to dawn on Sam until they got out of the car and merged with the other groups of people headed in the bar's direction. "Uh, Dean..." He kept his voice so low Dean had to move closer to catch what he was saying. "What kind of bar is this?"

Dean batted his eyelashes at Sam. "What do you mean, Sammy?"

"Is this place gay?"

"You're asking me if Nick's Corner, a place of business, likes dick?"

"_You know what I mean_."

"Yeah," Dean laughed. "I do, but come on, there's a pink neon sign, do you really have to ask?"

Sam glanced at the sign, before he ducked his head as if it had caught him looking. "So there is."

The inside of the bar had a smell as strong as smoke that made Dean think of the one time he let a cute guy drag him into a Hollister. He had tried on a bunch of pretty boy clothes that had made him feel like he was in a boy band.

"This place seems classy," Sam murmured sarcastically as he scrunched up his nose.

"How can you tell?" Dean asked. "I can barely see."

It was as if the bar's lighting was chosen just in case a series of stiff drinks didn't make your beer goggles thick enough. Dean was surprised the music was playing low and at a crawl, but the place had just opened and the night was young.

"Hey there," one man from a group of jarheaded hunks leered at Sam. Some of his friends even whistled as they came through the door. "You can rock that boyish lumberjack look on the dance floor with me later."

Sam shot a fleeting look behind his shoulder like he was looking for the guy they were really talking to. The men chuckled as they wandered over to a pool table.

"We should sit." Sam's face turned beat red as he started walking in the opposite direction of the jarheads. "Do you want to sit at the bar?"

Not happy with the looks Sam was getting from guys are the bar too, Dean grabbed Sam's arm and steered him past it, to the nearest table for two. "Here's fine."

Dean didn't realize this bar catered to gay men and women until a butch brunette approached their table, holding a pad and pen in her big hands. "What can I get you two?"

After looking over the small menu Sam had found on the table, he passed it to Dean. "Just onion rings for me, and a glass of water, please."

A photo of a double burger on the menu made Dean's appetite as big as he was. "I'll have the double Nick with tots, and bring us a pitcher of Blue Moon."

"I'll have someone bring the pitcher right away, but the food will be a minute." The waitress stared at the stitched up gash on Dean's head after she jotted the order down. She used the end of her pen to point at it. "You take it easy now."

"She's right, we should both take it easy," Sam argued with a weary tone.

"I said we were going out for fun, Sammy. Water isn't fun."

Needless to say, when the pitcher and their tall glasses came, Dean did not take it easy. And they were on their second pitcher by the time their food arrived.

"I whooped him with these babies." Dean paused to kiss his fists. "Took him down so hard your friends started calling me Knock Out, which was fine with me, I mean, my good looks alone have earned me that title."

Sam was laughing so hard at the story some of the beer he'd just swallowed came back up and shot out of his nose.

Dean's face twisted up. "Gross!" Then he started laughing too.

On the inside it was tearing him apart, thinking of the time he'd taught a lesson to that high school bully who had cold clocked his Sammy. It made him remember how happy Sam Singer had been, how many friends he'd had, before he gave up everything. And from the stories this Sam was telling him, it sounded like the same thing had happened. Sam Winchester gave up everything to hunt with his Dean, but why?

"So, you gave up law school too. Why did you leave to hunt?"

Sam looked down at the table top as he used a napkin to wipe a smudge of ranch dressing off his cheek. "I was with this girl, and because of me, a demon targeted her."

"Whoa, did she survive?"

"No."

"There's probably a lot you wish you could say to her."

"I don't know, I wish I could go back and stop it, but what could I say to her if she was here in spirit or something? _Sorry I got you killed_? I'm not sure how that would make either of us feel better."

"Yeah, can I have some of that?" Dean broke the intimate moment they were sharing inartfully, but he was feeling dry. He'd tried to re-fill his glass when he noticed the second pitcher was empty.

"Sure." Sam passed over the fruity drink he'd ordered after he got sucked into the mood of the bar.

Their fingers brushed against each other as Dean took the glass and both of their brows lifted, but neither acknowledged aloud the spark they'd felt.

The feeling had jumped down Dean's body, below the waist. He cleared his throat and muttered a 'thanks' before he downed the rest of the drink.

"I understand what you mean, about this girl, but there isn't anyone you've lost that you'd like to discuss unfinished business with? Like your Dean."

Sam sat back in his chair and covered his eyes with one hand, it shook a little. Dean looked away from the rattled younger man and cursed under his breath. He was doing this all wrong.

"Forget it; I shouldn't have brought him up. I only thought you might want my perspective on whatever went down, because, hell, I wouldn't mind hearing yours."

Sam's hand dropped, revealing a bewildered expression. "What do you mean?"

"You're a lot like my Sam, and my dad's right, I'm a wreck without him, he led the way," Dean babbled softly. "He's—he is—was my rock in this God forsaken world. But I could never put down the bottle for him. I'm guessing your Dean wasn't as heavy on the boozing as I am. I never got that vibe from you… anyway, my Sam was forgiving of it, but he couldn't forget the things I did when I was loaded. Stupid things, cheating sometimes when the hole in me felt too big for his love to fill. Hell, I fucked his double while he was—"

"Dean," Sam cut in, his expression one of ultimate discomfort, but his voice stayed sturdy. "You want to know if he would have regretted being in love with you, at the end? If he would have wished he spent his life with someone else, someone worthy?"

Dean froze, horribly awestruck, and feeling like Sam had punched through his chest. How had he known?

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Sam's eyes turned away from Dean's slack face and scanned the bar. It was now full of cheerful, loud patrons. The booming music had adjusted to the mood. He and Dean were very out of place.

"He didn't regret one moment," Sam said, his voice tight. "Because even if you were a rotten bastard sometimes, he loved you, maybe above reason. But the heart wants what it wants." Something inside Sam was waking, something that lay dormant for a long time. His first time in the truck with Dean had signaled this transformation. "Jesus! I'm in love with you, and I always have been. That's why I had to get away from you. That's why I tried to make a life with the first pretty girl who fell for me. To deal with how much loving my own brother hurt me. And deep down part of me was glad you sold your soul and were dragged to hell because I thought I'd finally get over it. But now, in this world, where we can be what we're meant to be, this damn love is stronger than ever and I can't keep it in anymore."

"The grass is greener on the other side," Dean mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked, holding back tears.

"I prefer your world, one where I never had the chance to hurt you the way I hurt my Sam, one where I'm the one who's dead. Let me guess, your Dean traded his soul to save or protect you?"

Sam sniffed. "He did."

"Then he felt the same." Dean squinted his eyes in the direction of the restroom. "I have to take a leak. Looks packed over there, I'll go out to the alley."

Sam was too taken aback to say anything as Dean got up and walked off. He had just poured his guts out, but Dean hadn't acknowledged it, he seemed cold—numb.

It took several seconds for Sam to get it, but when he did he felt like an ass. During this talk Dean had looked at him as if he was his Sam. This had to all be terribly depressing for him. They'd obviously shared an attraction before Sam's confession, but now he knew Sam was capable of having romantic feelings for him. They could share something more than drunken sex.

There was hope, hope that was a killer because it just couldn't be. This would not last. This was not Sam's home. He had another world to protect. Once Malimar was gone, so was he. They had to stop going down this path or they were going to be utterly heartbroken in the end.

_Oh… fuck it_, Sam thought defiantly.

He didn't care if it only lasted another month, another week, or only one more day. He loved this Dean already just as he'd loved his own, and he loved everything that was different about him too. All his unique flaws and strengths that Sam had noticed. He could definitely tolerate the struggle with booze in exchange for a Dean who didn't worship the ground John Winchester walked on.

Sam zigzagged through the stuffed bar and rushed out the back exit. The alley wasn't lit. It was cloaked in full dark. It made Sam nervous since his eyes took their time adjusting, but that didn't slow him down, he was able to follow the hissing sound Dean's urine made as it reached the pavement.

"Dean?"

"Sammy?"

Dean finished pissing and Sam heard him come closer as he zipped up his pants. Sam found his face with his hand and shoved their mouths together.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Despite the distraction of his heightened excitement, Sam felt silly in this position, lying flat on his back and holding his legs in the air. Images of gynecological exams sprung to mind, but he did not resist when Dean ordered him to stay like that. Then once the older man was finished wiping him clean – at Sam's insistence – the swipe of Dean's tongue in unmentionable places set Sam on fire, and this fire burned brighter than embarrassment or shame.

"God, don't stop," Sam panted.

Dean raised his head and the emerald of world's dangled off his neck and between Sam's spread legs. "I wasn't planning on it," Dean said smugly.

"You stopped to say that," Sam snapped.

Dean smirked as he dove back in. "Still good?" he asked, right after adding a finger to the mix.

"Yes," Sam moaned. "If I don't like something I'll say so."

By the time Dean entered Sam, he was as drunk on desire as he was on booze. Both made the journey from pain to bliss an easy one. Sam could have sworn the room spun when Dean began plunging deep into him, and found a magic spot Sam had never given much thought to until now. The repeated thrusts aimed at this delightful nub brought on a wave of pleasure so intense he experienced the most powerful orgasm of his life.

Sam screamed and Dean's triumphant holler of, "Yes!" sounded like a howl as his orgasm followed.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

When Sam woke the fire was gone, and so was the slight detachment of mind and body that had been granted by alcohol during the vigorous sex. That morning after Sam felt raw and sickly sober. And his heart felt vulnerable, exposed.

Sam gave a snoring Dean a sidelong glance and everything that tied him to his world washed away as his being was coated in a new purpose. He promised himself he would find a way to stay here, with this Dean.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam woke early in the morning, to the sound of muffled screams. He bolted out of bed, toward the wounded cries. His body protested. His pounding, heavy head weighing on his shoulders as if it had been encased in cement, but he refused to let it slow him down. He had to save Dean from whatever must be attacking him in the closet.

The room was covered in plastic sheets. It looked like something out of this one episode of _Dexter_ he'd caught during a stay in a hotel that offered Showtime.

A ginger haired man was strapped to Lola's plastic wrapped armchair, with a rag stuffed in his mouth. Dean was straddling him. He withdrew his ten inch blade from the man's gut and grabbed a fist full of hair. His arm muscles flexed as he brought the knife to the man's throat.

Reflex made Sam cover his eyes and he let out a wail as he turned away.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, sounding startled and confused.

Sam did not turn to face him, but he dropped his shaking hands from his face, that's when he saw the medical grade containers. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?"

Sam heard gurgling noises as the man died, then he heard Dean stand. The older man touched Sam's shoulder. "Oh, you're not used to this."

"Used to this…?" Dean had said it like Sam just walked in on the most natural sight in the world. "What is _this_, exactly?"

"I'm storing demon blood for you."

So, the stranger was a demon, of course. Sam wasn't sure he had put full faith in what Lola had told him about the serious magic embracing her condo, but there was no doubt in his mind, now that he'd witnessed a demon taking that abuse without escaping its meatsuit.

"This is how you got demon blood to feed me while I was out of it?"

"You got a better way?"

"A demon gave it to me willingly, in my world," Sam said softly. "I've only done something like this once, and I didn't take enough blood to kill the host. Sometimes they live after I exorcise the demon."

"Did the one you forced—did it live?"

"… no."

Sam walked out of the room then, stunned with shock and anger. Dean didn't follow him. He made quite a racket as he cleaned up. Sam could tell he wasn't happy with what he'd just learned. When he was finished Dean stomped into the room, put the four containers of blood in the fridge, and slammed it close.

"Don't just sit there," Dean snapped at Sam, who was sitting criss-cross on Lola's bed in silence. "Get dressed and help me move the body."

Sam did as he was told without saying a word.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

It was still very early on in the day, the sky was a dark blue and no one was out to spot the hunters placing a body in their trunk.

"Where did you find that guy anyway?" Sam asked, as Dean started the truck.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Does it matter? I got up at the crack of dawn, with a hangover from hell, because I was worried about keeping your supply up, because I was worried _about you_. And you're treating me like a serial killer."

"I am not. It's just…"

"Yeah, yeah, maybe you could have kept the host alive. But you don't know that for sure, and seeing as how you killed one the only time you didn't get a willing participant, chances are they would have died. And you never told me about that helpful side of your gift. And you know what—it wouldn't have mattered when you were too weak to get it yourself anyway." Dean's voice was elevated now. "So stop looking at me like I'm a serial killer, and look at me like you did before you fell asleep last night."

Dean chanced a glance at Sam. His crestfallen face morphed then into one of shame, rather than disappointment. "I'm sorry. I… I guess it's hard to see you doing something like that for me without any hesitation."

"This isn't just about you. This is about the world, Sammy. It needs you strong." Well, it was the truth, but if pressed Dean could not deny he would have done it just for Sam.

The rest of the ride was made in silence. They found a secluded bit of land off the freeway thirty minutes after they hit the road. They quickly burnt the body, and couldn't have done so any later, because southern California had woke faster and with more spirit than Sam and Dean had. The last thing they needed was a cop or Good Samaritan to see the smoke rising from the ginger haired man's corpse and to inspect the situation.

They stopped at a Mexican food stand on the way back to the condo. They sat on the edge of the bed of the truck while they ate instead of on the grimy picnic tables surrounding the place.

Images of the night before were stuck in Dean's mind. Images of a flushed face frozen in pleasure, a toned trembling belly, and strong legs spreading wide open for him.

Sam had never done it before, but knowing his Sam, Dean had known just what to do to make this Sam scream.

This near stranger who wore the face of the man he'd loved and lost. Dean couldn't help feeling attached to him. He didn't want to see the man wallowing because Dean had done what had to be done. He wanted to see him smile. He wanted to find a way to enjoy the time they had before this Sam was gone, even if they were spending it in the middle of a hunt for the deadliest demon Dean had ever encountered.

"Mmm, this thing is a monster," Dean said with a full mouth, holding up his half-pound breakfast burrito in Sam's face. "Want some?"

Sam shook his head and bit into his quesadilla. "My stomach's still recovering. How are you so damn lively?"

"It's nothing to brag about."

"Lots of practice?"

"That's one word for it."

Sam smirked. He threw an arm over Dean's shoulders. "Last night, it was something special."

Dean held in a laugh. He'd perfected doing that when his Sam said such fluffy things. The smile that reached his eyes had nothing to do with amusement though. He swallowed his mouth full and gave the sap a kiss.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Despite the fuss Sam had made, he downed a microwave warmed cup of blood when they got back to the condo.

"How's it taste?"

Sam licked his lips. "It hit the spot, but it tasted kind of funky."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Probably 'cause you're used to it fresh out of a host."

Sam shook his head. "No, it taste less potent, like its power's fading."

"Damn," Dean muttered. "Archer thought that could happen."

"Archer? Wasn't he one of the hunter's at the house?"

"Yeah. He recovered from a demonic blood addiction. That's why Bobby brought him and his men in. He's the one who taught me how to find demon's to bleed fast and easy."

"So, that's how you found that guy?"

"And the others." Dean took out his smart phone, and brought up the website before handing it to Sam.

"These are…prostitution ads?"

"Yep. Apparently screwing while wasted on demon blood is in high demand. That's how Archer got hooked."

Sam's cheeks turned pink and Dean's eyes widened. "You've done it? Really?"

"It's complicated," Sam said weakly.

He could only imagine what this Dean thought of him now. A brother lover and a demon fucker!

"Here." Sam handed Dean back his phone. "Let's find out how I'm going to kill Malimar before this batch of blood becomes useless."

Sam dug into where he'd last left off, still rabidly focused on Malimar, but he found time to secretly research a way to stay in this universe without causing it harm. He wasn't having much luck, but on the subject of Malimar, he soon hit pay dirt.

"Hey, Dean, I found something!" Sam hollered.

"Something good?"

He pushed the laptop to the side so it was sitting between them on Lola's table as Dean got to his knees next to him. "Something really good. I found a blog written by this author, Schumer, who researched mythical versions of historical events in the 70s. A collector of artifacts related to Alexander the Great lent Schumer a manuscript written by one of Alexander's generals. No scholars have shown much interest in this thing, most think it's a hoax, but Schumer thought it was the real deal."

Dean's eyes narrowed at the screen. "And we care about this because…?"

"The general wrote about Alexander meeting a seer during the last couple years of his life, who predicted Alexander's death. He supposedly came from a place in India, and was known as Malimar of Malabar."

"Go on."

"He claimed he was a half-demon, given the sight of monsters, and could only help change your future in exchange for your soul. Alexander wasn't interested in the trade, but he kept the seer close to him, he wanted his future read, supposedly it helped him win some of his last battles. In exchange for the seer's help, Alexander had some common men from his army pledge their souls."

"Creepy. So, why are we sure this is our guy? Malimar's a chaos demon who can open portals, he's not a seer, and he's not like a Crossroads demon."

"He could be capable of far more than we know for sure, but I don't think he was ever a seer," Sam explained. "I think he found an alternative universe where Alexander's fate was very similar, that was ahead of the other universe's time, just by a couple years—with all big events playing out in the same way."

"Ah, so he used his powers to trick people into thinking he knew the future. Does it mention why he went from small time stuff like deceiving people out of their souls to destroying worlds?"

"Yeah, Schumer's research led him to other tales of Malimar, some of the stuff I found myself, but he found a whole lot of useful information I missed." Sam brought up another window on the screen. "About a decade after Alexander's death there was this seer of great kings in a warring region, who promised to give them armies of demons in exchange for souls. The seer could open a portal to hell. But the warriors that came from hell, after guarantying a short allegiance to the seer for freeing them, would do their own thing once the wars were won, and brought mayhem to the kingdoms. Eventually Malimar was seen as a threat rather than an ally. The kings tried to kill him, which resulted in him punishing them—he destroyed their land by opening portals."

"Why has this crazy son of a bitch been dormant for so long if he's so damn powerful. Why didn't he keep starting trouble here?"

"That's where I hit a dead end. But my best guess is someone had to have found a way to stop him, and he wasn't active again until—"

"The hell gate opened in Wyoming," Dean cut in. He stood and started pacing. "I hate to say this Sammy, I really do, but there's no known way to kill Malimar, including exorcism—maybe not even the kind you can do. I think we've been looking at this all wrong. He knows you're an agent of chaos too, and he most likely knows you have the ability to open portals. That's how he knows you can kill him. If he could open a portal to hell, then maybe you can too, and send the son of a bitch right through it."

That thought certainly gave Sam pause. No wonder why the yellow-eyed demon had been so interested in creating agents of chaos. With enough power maybe they wouldn't just be able to open doors to hell that demon's couldn't reach. Maybe they could become powerful enough to create a door to hell out of thin air!

"If I could really do that, it would have to be a one shot thing," Sam argued hoarsely. "I can't just be opening doors to hell left and right. I don't think we should even risk a practice run. We need to find someone who knows about Malimar, and how true this could be."

Dean looked thoughtful as he reached for his phone again. "Archer wasn't just brought in for being a demonic junkie, the dude made some serious connections. He saved and rehabilitated a lot of his men from the underworld before requiting them."

"Then we need his help."


	15. Chapter 15

Sam and Dean were supposed to be on their way to meet up with Archer and some of his men. So, how he and Dean ended up on Lola's bed in the middle of a quickie—Sam could not quite even explain it to himself. These things just tended to happen when one was anticipating saving the world by opening a portal to hell.

Of course in the back of Sam's mind there was the need to protect the world, like a good little hunter, but his instinct as a man who wanted a last hurrah with his fresh lover had bleed through the noble game plan.

This time Sam was on top. Dean's body was the tightest, warmest, most inviting and most readily stimulated meatsuit Sam had ever experienced. What really set him off like never before (and much too quickly) was Dean's tongue darting out to taste Sam's chest, paying careful attention to his sensitive nipples.

"Oh no," Sam moaned. "Not yet."

"Oh yeah," Dean whispered huskily, before swiping his tongue over one of Sam's puckered nipples again. "Fill me up."

"Oh God," Sam groaned, and he let out a long shaky breath as release overtook him.

Dean pulled Sam's head down and brought their lips together for a quick, hard kiss. "Don't stop, you're still hard, I can feel it."

Sam shivered. "Okay," he said in a strangled voice. He fought the urge to pull out because of how thin and vulnerable his skin felt after the orgasm, like the inviting warmth hard turned into flames that threatened to burn his flesh. It caused the muscles throughout his body to twitch in resistance during the last few strokes before he brought Dean over the edge.

"Ah!" A rough set of finger nails clawed into one of Sam's shoulders as Dean's eyes rolled back in his head. It was a sight so hot, if Sam hadn't been feeling too tender, he was sure he would have reached ecstasy again.

As the hunters shared a moment in spent silence, it all felt so perfect it hurt. It made Sam's heart feel as raw as his body. For years he'd gone to bed wishing for another place, and woke from dreaming of another place, but he'd never thought that place truly existed. It was just one of those hopes beyond hope that people cling to so they can make it through the drag of the day.

This place was real though, this place where Sam could make love to the man that had been the forbidden keeper of his heart.

_I'll do whatever it takes_, Sam thought. _But I can't leave you. I won't give this up._

Dean let out a hardy grunt and said, "Let's go before the world turns to shit."

This took Sam out of the romance and brought him back to the harsh world. "We should." He reached for his discarded shirt. He'd kept his pants and underwear on the entire time, with just the necessary part pulled out. "I'll drive."

Dean caught Sam's gaze as he passed him the keys. "You did me so good; you took away my fear just now, Sammy. I'm ready for whatever's coming."

Knowing Dean wasn't the type to freely put feeling on display (unless he'd hit the bottle or was rage fueled or thought someone was soon to die), Sam's heart felt rather large as they went to the truck.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"What's this place called again?" Sam asked, as he took the right turn Dean had directed.

"Molly's Pet Pamper Shop," Dean reminded, his voice full of amusement. "It's far up the road."

"And this is where Archer said his contact works?"

"How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until I'm sure you're not joking."

"We don't have time for jokes."

"That wasn't a straightforward denial."

Dean slapped a hand down on Sam's knee. "I'm. Not. Joking. There it is! See that pink and red sign?"

The sign was the flashiest on the roster of businesses located in the shopping center. It looked like the cover of a Valentine's Day card.

"Oh," Sam uttered, clearly baffled by this turn of events.

"Told you."

Stranger than the knowledge that they were meeting a demon informant at a place like this, was seeing a line of motorcycles parked nearest to the shop's entrance.

"Archer's men, you think?" Sam asked, as he parked.

"Or a bunch uh bikers who love their pouches."

"Or…that."

Dean smirked. "This time I am kidding. Those belong to Archer's boys."

The door of the shop had a sign taped to it that said the staff was out for lunch, even though you could clearly see a crowd of people by the register. One man, the only one behind the counter, spotted Dean and Sam approaching the shop and waved them in.

The inside of the shop smelled of fur, dog treats, and leather (which Dean thought was coming off the bikers more than the collars that were hanging off the walls).

Archer stepped forward, out of his gang of ten. He was a burly man, with a black head of long hair and a wiry beard to match. He was intimidating enough, but he looked a bit too much like a pirate for Dean to take his look seriously. "How are you, Winchester?"

"Out of my mind. You?"

"I think I'm nearly there. Now you two introduce yourselves to my friend Mickey here then shut your traps until he's finished his say," Archer replied, serious as a drill sergeant.

Dean gave him an obedient nod. "Will do." From the look Archer gave to the man who standing behind the counter, wearing an apron covered in pink paw prints, Dean gathered that he was Mickey. "I'm Dean, hunter. And this is Sam, agent of chaos." Dean ignored the look Sam shot him. "Nice to meet you, Mickey. What's your designation?"

Mickey's eyes went black. "I'm Switzerland—typically a neutral party during times like these, but I really pity you dumb humans, being pushed around by us higher beings. It's like when your kind picks on a poor pup that's done nothing to you." He shook his narrow head. "When there's this bullying for no reason, I owe your kind a bone or two."

"Very kind of you," Dean said smoothly. "What do you have for us?"

Mickey jumped right in. "Archer contacted me just in time. The undergrounds been all abuzz since a portal was open near you boys' hideout. Malimar put out the word that he had used a portal to mark a location and said anyone who was interested in proving themselves to him should be ready to attack it, and that cowards would be known to him. But no one would risk it," Mickey paused, glancing at Sam. "Because everyone was too afraid of what they heard was inside. Normally my type wouldn't have the nerve to cross someone like Malimar, but that's the thing with you Sam. We see that you scare him, which makes you even scarier to most of us. You can send him back to hell, and I know someone who can help you do it."

"Who?" Archer and Dean asked in unison.

"You ever heard of Guy Stern?" Mickey asked.

"He's a television executive," Sam said.

Mickey shook his head. "Not anymore, he's just a vessel now. For a playboy demon named Roch. They say he knows where to find Malimar, that the chaos demon needed his help finding a sanctuary." Mickey pulled out a pad and pen from his apron pocket. He scribbled something down before tearing the paper free and handing it to Archer. "He'll be at that hotel tonight. He's throwing a party in the penthouse suite."

"Well, boys," Archer said dryly, "We know how to crash a party, don't we?"

But his boys didn't look too sure.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Archer's gang followed Sam and Dean back to Lola's. There they loaded shells with salt and started strategizing.

Sam could tell Dean was antsy; his authority was usually limited to Sam. Now, feeling the walls of the small apartment pressing in on them, the two were in the presence of a new authority, Archer, who was steadfastly under control of several grown men. And knowing what Sam was, the ears in the room were also far more inclined to hear his words than Dean's.

It made the situation rather tense, to the point that in drove Dean to the bottle. Sam wasn't too concerned until Dean excused himself to the bathroom so he could take something for his head. Sam gave the biker's a sheepish look and excused himself.

"I didn't know you even had alcohol on you," Sam said, as he stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door.

"I had it in the truck," Dean said absently. He was busy trying to outsmart the child lock on his pill bottle.

"What are those?"

"I got them at the hospital, after they stitched me up."

"You shouldn't take them with alcohol," Sam nagged, as he reached for the bottle, but Dean jerked it away. "Hey, I mean it Dean! Have you been mixing these with alcohol this whole time?"

"Why do you care?" Dean snapped. "You're nearly done with me, if tonight goes right."

"Is that why you're acting like this?" Sam sighed. "I thought Archer was getting under your skin."

Dean shrugged. His eyes dropped down and he looked like he regretted opening his mouth, and probably wouldn't have if he didn't have a few drinks in him. "I already told you that I don't know what the hell I'm doing without you. Sometimes I can barely function with you around."

"You know I feel the same way without you," Sam said weakly. "There has to be a way I can stay."

"Don't, god, you're just making it worse!" Dean huffed.

"I mean it Dean," Sam whispered, as he reached for the older man.

It was like coming home, as those strong arms wrapped around him, but it was almost ruined by the waves of fear and desperation that were coming off Dean. He sighed again, this time a great defeated sigh. Maybe he was in denial. Maybe he was making it worse.

"Whatever happens," Sam spoke softly, "I'll always love you. And I mean _you_. You're my Dean now."

Dean shivered and sniffed. "I love you so damn much, Sam Winchester."

One of Archer's men, Jeff, road with them to the hotel. They were all big guys, so it was an awkward seating arrangement, with Dean driving and Sam sandwiched between him and the biker.

Jeff was the youngest of the gang, barely out of his teens. He was visibly nervous, with his shifting eyes, damp forehead, and shaky leg.

"On edge?" Sam asked simply, raising his eyebrows at the young man.

Jeff swallowed and looked out the window. "I've never done something this big, not even close."

"Don't worry, kid," Dean said, "We'll beat this son of a bitch and you'll go on to stop the world's end so often that you'll feel edgy on peaceful days instead."

Sam glared at Dean. "That's a comforting thought to put in his head."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Just giving it to him straight."

Jeff sunk down further in his seat. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

"Cool your jets," Dean said roughly, as he reached over the other men and popped open the glove compartment. He took out a joint and liter and handed them to Jeff.

"Where did you get that?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean grinned at him. "I found it in Lola's medicine cabinet. Oh, don't give me that look; no one said you had to partake. Although you must see the irony in a demonic drinker such as yourself judging a joint. Loosen up, you know intoxication doesn't mess with my driving, and it a little doobie indulgence won't blow this mission."

Sam threw up his hands. "Fine, enjoy yourselves."

"I'll open the window," Jeff said, his face bright with relief.

Sam gave a curt nod and Jeff cracked the window before he lit up. Sam's eyes stayed on the joint as it was passed several times from Dean's lips to Jeff's, and an absurd surge of jealousy made his chest feel tight.

"Give me that," he said with the poutiness of a child, taking the half-smoked joint before Dean could pass it to Jeff again.

Dean laughed. "Uh oh, look out—Sammy's hopping on the wagon."

Sam filled his lungs with the thick smoke and attempted to smoothly exhale it like Dean and Jeff had, but instead he brought it up hacking.

Dean patted Sam's back with his free hand. "Whoa there Cheech, take it slow."

When they reached the hotel Sam was feeling warm in his head and his body felt like it was made of clouds.

The place was fit for a king. The front lobby was a hundred times bigger than Lola's apartment, but no one was in it. It wasn't the type of place you just strolled into. This was a place you had to reserve a room at half-a year ahead of your plans. The kind of place that welcomed celebrities in through a back entrance to maximize their privacy.

Sam, Dean, and a group of Archer's cleanest cut bikers went to the front desk dressed in delivery man jump suits, with their arms full of their cover. Empty well wrapped boxes posing as presents for Guy Stern.

"These are from Malimar," Sam told the strict looking, frail old woman who was manning the desk.

Her eyes swept over them with uncertainty. "I'll have our staff take them up."

"Sorry, miss," Sam said with as much confidence as he could muster. "But we're to deliver these. Malimar's orders. Tell Guy who sent for us, I'm sure he'll approve it."

Keeping her eyes on them after shooting a look at a guard by the door, Miss Strict-Face made the call, speaking too low into the receiver for Sam to hear what she was saying. His heart wanted to speed up, but he breathed in deep and let it out slow.

_Relax, relax_, he told himself. Fighting a rise in cold paranoia that made his mind run over all the ways this scam could go very wrong.

Maybe the weed wasn't so soothing after all.

Miss Strict-Face handed Sam a sign-in sheet after she hung up the phone, and his hand almost shook as he took it.

"Mr. Stern is in the penthouse." She reached into a drawer and handed Sam a set of keys. "You'll need to use those in the elevator." She took out a click-on pass and handed it to him as he gave her the sign-in sheet back. "Show your pass to the guard in the hall."

One step closer, and now there was nothing Sam could do to stop himself from shaking.

The elevator was so big, everyone was able to travel up together. One of the bikers went to say something the second the doors closed, but Dean shushed him and looked up at a surveillance camera. "They have eyes in here, they might have ears too," he whispered. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head and grabbed Dean's hand, without a care for whoever was watching them. He didn't know what he was more afraid of, the plan going wrong, or the plan going right.

A/N: I've been a very bad fanfic writer lately, but I'm finally getting around to finishing this story. There are other projects I've left hanging, but this one is my top priority right now. I promise it will be completed soon!


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